Delivered
by The Noble French Fry
Summary: A desperate rescue mission that cost the lives of almost an entire SG team brought back the one person Daniel needed to see most. [COMPLETE][DanielVala][AU after S9 ep 'Beachhead']
1. Extradite

**Title: Delivered**

**Rating: PG (K+)**

**Reason: Some gorish descriptions (but nothing explicit)**

**Summary: A desperate rescue that cost almost an entire SG team... And all to bring back the one person Daniel needed to see most.**

**Pairing: Daniel/Vala**

**Categories: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance, AU**

**Note: This goes AU after Beachhead.

* * *

**

**Delivered**

**Extradite**

Every day the stack of reports got taller and taller. And every time a report was read and removed from the pile, Daniel's hopes sank lower and lower, further and further away.

The reports were everything from across the galaxy concerning the Ori. Every time a Prior was spotted spouting his jargon, every time an off-world team found out something new, a report landed on top of the stack on Daniel Jackson's desk.

He clung to a fading shard of hope that all of this knowledge would somehow help him confirm Vala was alive in Ori territory, and that somehow the data would aid him in rescuing her. But instead of every report bringing new hope and new light to optimism's fading self, it diminished his fading sanguinity. After every one, things just seemed that much more hopeless.

One last unread report sat on his desk, both begging to be read and asking to be banished directly to a trash can.

_It's just going to tell you there's no hope_, a faint voice in Daniel's head whispered.

Eventually, with a sigh, he reached out and opened it up. His eyes quickly skimmed the headings, taking in the information with a mere glance.

_Filed by: Colonel Marla Jameson, leader of SG-6 & Major Christopher Grouper, 2IC of SG-6_

_Location: P48-0696_

_Time received: 10:38 MST_

A peek at a clock confirmed for Daniel that the report was just over four hours old, meaning it had probably landed on his desk while he was away at lunch. The most recent report, then.

The report's message itself was very brief.

_A Prior has come through the Stargate and threatened the people here. We are going to take action. This will not continue._

Just another Prior sighting then. Daniel started to toss it right into his trash—

Wait, did it say that they were going to "take action"?

Immediately, he stopped.

The off-world teams were all under orders to leave the Priors alone after the whole incident with the Ori beachhead. The SGC as a whole thought it just too dangerous and risky. The only exception to the orders was in personal defense, and from the report's sound that wasn't the case.

But Daniel re-read it and it still held the same message: _we are going to take action._

That would put SG-6 against orders and Marla Jameson—leader of SG-6 and co-filer of the report—was anything but insubordinate.

Frowning, Daniel scooped up the report and started making his way towards General Landry's office.

Just then, wailing alarms went off and lights began flashing all down the hallway.

"Unscheduled off-world activation!" echoed Sergeant Harriman's voice in response.

Reflexively, Daniel's step quickened as he changed course for the control room. He got there just after General Landry himself, who was breathing a little hard, as if he'd come running.

"What is it?" the General asked.

"Unknown address," Harriman observed, looking at his screen. "We're getting a signal sir… It appears to be Colonel Jameson's—of SG-6."

"Jameson…" Landry said. "Where is she supposed to be?"

"P48-0696."

Ignoring the fact that it was Daniel and not Harriman that answered his question, Landry looked up to the metal barricade stretched across the Gate's opening. "Well, what's the problem, Sergeant?"

"Well, sir, the code is a little… garbled," Harriman replied, tapping away at his computer. "Still readable as Jameson's, but the frequencies are a tad off, sir."

"An imitation?" suggested Daniel.

"It's possible."

Landry's struggle was obvious, but he ordered the soldiers in the Gateroom to stand ready and nodded to Sergeant Harriman. "Open the iris."

At Harriman's command, the metal glided open and the rippling blue wormhole surface appeared. For a long, suspended moment, nothing happened.

Then suddenly, a running woman in a ripped SG uniform came through the Gate shouting at the top of her lungs. "Close the iris!" she cried. "Close the iris!"

Harriman slapped a hand across the button and smoothly, the metal iris closed. But not before some odd energy bolt came flying through, rushing into the wall. The metal of the wall buckled inward around the impact, but remained mostly intact.

Daniel was already heading down to the Gateroom with Landry on his heels.

When the men got into the wide Gateroom, the woman who'd come through the Gate turned towards them from where she knelt gasping for air. A huge gash crossed her face on one side from hairline to ear, pouring out blood down her face. Matching her ripped and bloody clothing, the other side was scratched and scathed, but identifiable.

"Colonel Jameson," Landry gruffly identified aloud. "What in the galaxy happened to you?"

"Later, sir," she replied, voice broken around her gasps for breath. "First, med team."

As she struggled to her feet and turned towards the medics—who were already running in at Harriman's call—Daniel abruptly realized that Jameson cradled something large in her arms. It looked almost like a body bag, being made from the standard green canvas. The cloth was ripped, scorched and bloody, to match Jameson's new motif…

And as the female commander gently and carefully laid the "bag" down on the medics' stretcher, Daniel was astounded to see that it wasn't a bag at all, but a person twisted about and wrapped up in the standard issue survival blanket. And with a heart-wrenching shock as he followed the stretcher and medics—including those hurrying Jameson along—that marred as she was, the person lying on the stretcher was Vala Mal Doran.


	2. Exodus

**Exodus**

Burning pain lanced through her arm from the elbow all the way up through her wrist and palm, even up to her fingertips as Doctor Lam set the fractured bones therein. Marla Jameson inhaled sharply at the pain but gave no other outward sign to her suffering.

"Can you give me the final assess' now, Lam?" Marla asked.

"Five fractures in this arm," Lam replied, wrapping Marla's now-set arm in a cast. "Sprained left ankle, three cracked ribs, scattered second degree burns." She tapped one side of Marla's head away from the numbed area the commander knew held stitches, then the other side likewise. "Seventeen stitches here, five here." She frowned as she continued to wrap the arm. "What in this galaxy did you do to bang yourself up like this, Colonel?"

"Sorry, Doc," Marla replied. "General's gotta hear the report first."

"I'm sure he does." Lam's voice was skeptical and made the edges of Marla's mouth quirk into a smile.

"'Sides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Finished with Marla's cast, the doctor planted her hands on her hips. "Actually, you'd be surprised how much I'm willing to believe."

If she'd been any other slightly warmer person, if she'd been in any less emotional stress, Marla would have smiled. Instead, she just changed the subject. "Well, what was the final synopsis on Mal Doran? What's her broken bone count? And injuries otherwise…"

"Well, both of her legs are broken in multiple places," Lam began, counting on her fingers. "Collarbone's snapped, spinal cord was almost fractured, broken arm—about as bad as yours, Colonel—concussion, burns of all three degrees, all sorts of cuts that had to be stitched and some odd puncture wounds on her chest and stomach." Lam paused, studying the fact that most of her fingers were in the air. And she shook her head. "Again, what in this galaxy did you _do_, Colonel?"

As Marla opened her mouth to retort, a different voice cut her off.

"I'd like to know the same thing, Colonel Jameson, if you'll please."

Careful not to put weight on her sprained ankle, Marla snapped to attention as General Landry strode into the infirmary. It hurt her bandaged ribs to be standing like this as well, but protocol—

"At ease," the General ordered, immediately causing Jameson to slack a little. "Commander, don't you have a bad ankle? Shouldn't put weight on that. Sit."

"Yessir." Carefully, Marla sat herself on the hospital bed, looking back to Landry right in the eye. "Gonna begin the debrief _here_, sir?"

"No one's going to listen," the General replied with a pointed look at Lam. Getting the not-quite-subtle hint, the doctor shrank away. "Besides, in your condition, you probably want to stick close to the infirmary." He held up a finger. "First, Jameson, where's your team?"

Despite her bandaged ribs, Marla immediately went rigid. "It doesn't matter, sir," she grated tightly. "They're not coming back."

"Dead?" The look on the General's face was quiet pain, but also anger that Marla feared would be directed at her…

But still, she truthfully nodded shortly.

"Even Major Grouper?"

The barrage of memories that confronted Marla of her second-in-command were so numerous and completely varying, each one piercing her heart in its own broken way. "Yes, sir. Even him. Chris lasted longer than the others, but they got him just the same."

"Who is 'they,' Colonel?"

"The Ori, sir."

"The Ori?" The General's face pinched into a tight, bewildered frown. "You'd better start explaining yourself now, Jameson!"

"Gladly, sir." Steeling herself, Marla began.

------

The glare of the sun reflected off of something large probably two miles off towards the horizon. From the direction of the Stargate.

At first, Chris Grouper was ready to dismiss it as nothing. Then he remembered that P48-0696 was a fledgling Jaffa mining colony, and that no one should be coming through the 'Gate. His days of worrying about the Goa'uld were over, having been replaced by problems with the Ori.

"Mar," he interrupted his commander's conversation with the Jaffa leader. "Gate's been activated." His eyes flicked to the Jaffa—Ez'zon, wasn't it? "Expecting company?"

The Jaffa shook his head.

The safety on Jameson's gun clicked "off" loudly. "Let's check it out." She gestured to the other members of SG-6. "Adkins, behind me. Then Gonzalez, and Chris, bring up the rear."

The three men nodded and Marla took off at a fast jog, rifle ready and her team in tow. It wasn't long before Chris heard a half-dozen armed Jaffa coming along behind, moving swiftly and almost silently through the woods.

And all ten people—Tau'ri and Jaffa alike—felt their blood run cold as they emerged from the forest and saw their worst fear.

A Prior stood a half-step in front of the rippling blue Gate with his staff and Book of Origin held in either hand.

Six staffs and four rifles sighted him immediately, as much good as _that_ was going to do. None wavered in the least, nor did the Prior's calm, placid expression.

"You go right back through that Gate," Marla barked at him. "You and your kind are _not_ welcome here, Ori scum!"

The alien simply cocked his head.

"Yeah, that's right, Cueball!" Marla snapped, picking fun at his hairless head. "I'm talking to _you_! Don't you get the meaning of the word 'leave'?"

"Jarucius told Appal to leave—" the Ori follower began, opening his book.

"Yeah, God Almighty—that's _Jehovah-Yahweh_—told Lot's family to leave Sodom and He told them to never look back," the commander cut in. "And when Lot's wife looked back, she turned into salt. Well, I'm telling you to turn and run. And if you turn and look back, you're gonna be full of bullet-holes—but same basic concept." She waved her gun threateningly. "See, Mr. Prior, you quote your Book of Lies all you want, and I'll just throw the Good Book herself at you."

Behind the Prior, the wormhole remained open the entire time. And slowly after Marla's sermon, he stalked down towards the ring of armed opposers and the Gate fluttered closed behind him.

"Chris," Jameson called, keeping the Prior at the business end of her rifle. "Get a report back to command. Tell them we're taking action."

"But, Mar—" he started.

"Do it, Grouper," she bit out. "And make it brief."

Obediently snapping his mouth shut—and knowing this could earn SG-6 court-martials one and all—Chris Grouper sent the last report of his life.

------

"And that's when you got the report, sir," Marla said to the General. "And when we decided to do something."

"Do you realize what you did was insubordinate?" Landry asked. "You were acting against orders to leave Priors alone, Colonel. That kind of defiance could earn you a court-martial."

"Yes, I know, sir," she replied tightly. "But I'm hoping what I'm going to tell you will outweigh my rebellious action, sir."

"Continue." Skeptically, the General crossed his arms.

"Well, I don't know quite how, but we managed to convince the Prior to go back through the 'Gate…"

------

Gregorio Gonzalez was watching the Ori follower closely when he turned and raised his staff at the Gate. And to Gonzalez's extreme surprise, the Gate rapidly started dialing and activated itself without anyone laying a finger on the dialing device. The Prior just walked right up the steps to the Gate.

Jameson—who'd been standing off to the side speaking with one of the Jaffa—noticed immediately. "Follow him!" she snapped, already running herself.

Gonzalez was a small man, but he pumped his short legs as could and went through the Gate not two steps behind the Ori Prior. He came out on the other side in a gold-bricked palace…

Right behind him, all three of SG-6's other members and four of the Jaffa made it through before the Gate closed down. Roughly, Gonzalez bit out a curse under his breath as he realized just where they had to be.

In the Ori galaxy, in an Ori stronghold.

"No DHD," was Jameson's first observation.

A glance from Gonzalez confirmed that.

"They must have some other method of dialing, then," Grouper input.

Without warning, one of the Jaffa fired his staff-weapon at the ceiling over the Prior's head. A large section crumbled off and tumbled the short four feet down to crash on the Ori follower's head—

------

"Whoa, hold it," Landry said, throwing up a hand to punctuate his words. "Did you just say you killed a Prior? How in this universe did you manage to do _that_?"

"Well, sir, we just sort of… well… er… _squished_ him, sir," Marla struggled. She demonstrated with her good hand, bringing it down against her leg like the falling roof. "Simple as that."

The General shook his head. "All this time, and it was as easy as _squishing_ them." He sighed. "Just continue, Colonel."

"Well, some how or another, after splitting up from the Jaffa, we found a control room," Marla said. "From there, we got access to the computer, found out they had Mal Doran and went after her. The whole fortress came after us…"

------

_Run. Run. Run._

That was the only thought on Beau Adkins' mind at the moment.

He could hear the angry shouts of Ori believers and soldiers hurrying along behind him with weapons. Ahead of him pounded his teammates, lead by the fearless colonel.

And then as an energy bolt passed over his shoulder while he rounded a corner, Adkins' foot caught on something, causing him to topple forward. His shin hit the hard floor first and he not only felt the sharp jab of pan, but he heard an extremely audible _crrraaaaaccckkk_.

He bit out curses under his breath and winced as he tried to pull himself along.

The next thing Adkins knew, bullets were whizzing past his head in one direction and energy bolts were returning the opposite way. Then there was a break and he jerked his head up.

His teammates were against the corridor walls, rifles aimed back up the hall at the enemies.

"Get your butt up, Adkins!" Jameson barked.

"Can't, ma'am," he groaned in reply.

Jameson swore and momentarily glanced down at her subordinate. "Dangit, Adkins, when did I _ask_ you if you could or couldn't get up?" She resumed firing at the enemy and spoke through gritted teeth. "Get up or you're getting left!"

Adkins knew what they said at the SGC about Colonel Marla Jameson: she was a brilliant strategist, but cold, harsh, unfeeling and too close-minded. And he knew from experience—especially now—that what they said was all too true.

Stubbornly, he pushed himself to his knees and tried to crawl along. But searing, white-hot agony pressed him back down.

The last thing Beau Adkins saw was the floor of an Ori fortress.

-------

"They got Adkins before we even got to Mal Doran," Marla said, shaking her head. "Burned him up beyond recognition. We managed to get all of that particular group in retaliation."

"What about the four Jaffa?" the General asked.

"We lost contact, sir."

"Ah. Anyway, then you picked up Vala…"

"Yes, sir." Marla nodded. "She was in some kind of detention cell, apparently tortured. She was a real sight, sir, beaten and bloody. Not only that, but she was delirious too. All she would say was 'Daniel, Daniel, Daniel,' no matter what we asked. I carried her out... and it seems we set off some kind of self destruct on the way out. Then we had more Priors and soldiers on our tail. They got Gonzalez."

When Marla paused, the General nodded for her to continue.

"Then the ceiling started falling down. A piece hit me, and did most of this damage." She raised her casted arm and splinted ankle as evidence. "And it hurt Mal Doran too. Chris got me up, and I got Mal Doran. We got to the control room and dialed home…"

-------

The familiar sound of a dialing Stargate reached Chris Grouper's ears as he pounded down the golden hallway behind Marla. She was panting and limping, but she kept on running for her life…

Ahead of them a blue light flashed into existence and lit their way.

And the corridor dropped away into a Gateroom…

Safety, Chris thought.

But it was not to be.

He was hit hard from behind with something he couldn't identify. The heat spread agonizingly throughout his whole body... The next thing he knew, he slammed into the ground with shattering force.

And when he recovered from the shock, he realized that he'd been shot.

"Chris!" came a pained shriek calling his name.

He looked up to see his commander standing at the Stargate, staring down at him with a horrified look.

Chris Grouper knew what they said about Marla Jameson at the SGC and he knew he was the only one in a long time that had punctuated her cold exterior. And he knew how far back his loss would set her, and how much pain it would cause.

"Sorry, Mar," he whispered to her. "Sorry."

She foolishly started back down the steps to help him.

"No…" he insisted as the life left him. "Go. Go, Mar, go."

Her jaw set and with a determined look, she turned and ran through the Gate, leaving her dead friend behind.

------

"And that's when I came through the Gate, sir," Marla finished. "With the Ori fortress crumbling behind me."

"Do you think you put it out of commission?" the General asked.

She nodded lightly. "Yessir, I think it's a strong possibility."

"Well then, I think your accomplishment and bravery probably outweighs your insubordination. Good work, Colonel. You're dismissed."

* * *

**A/N: The story of Lot can be found in Genesis.**


	3. Emerald

**Emerald**

Daniel had heard the reports. He knew that Vala was broken, and still bordering on the delirious side, but recovering. He'd just been standing outside of the room they were holding her in this entire time…

He heard a tap, tap, tap from behind him, and turned halfway around to see the source of the noise.

It was Colonel Jameson, hobbling over using a crutch under one arm to help her walk. One foot was splinted and held behind her and a sling held a casted arm to her chest. He was surprised to see her stitched face was framed by wisps of short-cropped auburn hair and that she sported a loose black t-shirt and cargo pants. Of all the years Jameson had worked at the SGC, Daniel had never seen her without her camouflage hat or out of her same-patterned standard-issue fatigues—come to think of it, probably no one had. So he'd never seen her hair and was wondering if he was the first on base to have that privilege.

"Why don't you just use a wheel-chair, Colonel?" he asked, noticing the trouble she had with the single crutch.

"Wheel-chairs are for old people," she retorted, concentrating on her mission. "Or seriously injured folks."

"You're not seriously injured?" Daniel responded, raising a brow.

Jameson looked up with fire in her green eyes. "No, I'll make it."

_You just think a wheelchair would make you look weak_, he thought. _Everyone knows how tight and cold you are, Jameson. No one thinks you're weak._

But she managed to limp her way to the door to Vala's room. It remained closed as per orders from Lam herself that at the moment, Vala needed sleep and no visitors.

"Have they told you anything new, Jackson?" Jameson asked.

"Well, no," he replied, sinking into a waiting-room chair. "Last I heard was the thus-far broken bone count."

Nodding, Jameson waddled over and slowly lowered herself into an opposing chair. "I got more info… While Lam was patching me up, she told me that Mal Doran also has a concussion, all kinds of burns and stitches, and patched up punctures." She shook her head lightly. "She was very bloody when I found her."

Daniel had to try hard not to gulp and cringe. "Yes, what _did_ happen, Colonel?"

"First, call me Jameson and drop the colonel. I don't feel like being called Colonel now." Some unspoken pain was hidden in her deep green eyes, and Daniel didn't press. "And second, me and my… team… found our way to the Ori galaxy. We rescued Mal Doran from captivity." Briefly, Jameson outlined her adventure—omitting details about her team.

Daniel listened, fascinated at the bravery of SG-6. And at their raw insubordination.

"They tortured Vala?" Daniel asked after that part in her story.

"From the looks of things, I'd say yeah, it's a pretty safe bet," Jameson replied with a tight set to her jaw. "The Ori are _ruthless_, Jackson, just like the Goa'uld. Torture is just a means to an end for people like that."

Slowly, he nodded. He knew that—or at least he should have. "Well, thank you for helping her." He could feel the emotion flooding into his voice. Gratitude and relief… And he quickly tampered it out, unsure of where it came from in the first place. "Thank you for saving her from their torture." This time, his voice was controlled and much less desperate sounding.

"It's my job," Jameson assured. "And the job of every SG officer on base."

"Speaking of officers… Your team. Where are they? Still on P48-0696?"

Immediately, Jameson's lips flattened and her jaw tightened. Her posture went tighter, if that was at all possible. The shake of her head was equally stiff. "No. They didn't make it."

"Oh," Daniel said. "I'm so sorry."

"At least they died fighting to save the galaxy," she replied. "They would've wanted it that way. Being the big heroes that sacrificed it all for the greater cause."

Not really knowing how to respond, Daniel just nodded quietly.

Apparently taking refuge in the silence, Jameson sat back and closed her eyes in peace.

Peace.

The cold, hard woman who had just come back from a mission that cost her the lives of her three closest companions—and almost cost her own life—was at peace. Beaten and battered, bruised and injured, she seemed so tranquil and aloof, beyond all of life's petty pain. Maybe that was the upside to having a hard shell like Jameson's: things just didn't get to you the way they did to other people.

_But what about Vala?_ Daniel thought, frowning.

Was Vala's exterior hard enough to endure all she'd been through in the past couple of months? Would she come out of this unscathed?

Somehow the thought deeply disturbed Daniel and he stood, beginning to pace with a thoughtful frown on his face and a wrinkle in his brow.

Vala was strong. That much was obvious.

She was toughened by years as a thief, stripping herself of moral… She was solidified by years suppressed as a Goa'uld host…

But could that really help her so much with the emotional, mental and physical agony she'd endured at the hands of the Ori?

Would she come away from this crisis changed?

_No_, Daniel thought desperately. _She can't be changed. She's Vala, for goodness's sake! She has to be the same. She—_

"Stop pacing."

Startled, he looked over to see Jameson staring at him through half-open emerald eyes.

"You're making too much noise," she continued. "And I'm trying to rest."

"Oh, sorry." With a little difficulty, Daniel stopped his pacing and dropped himself back into his chair, willing his uneasiness away.

Jameson's eyes closed again.

The ensuing silence didn't even last a minute before Daniel asked the commander a question. "Why are you here, Jameson?"

Again, her eyes fluttered open and she tilted her stitched face towards him. "To see Mal Doran when she wakes up," she replied. "Same as you."

"Why?"

For a moment, Jameson just stared quietly at Daniel. "I want to tell her something," she finally said, slowly. "I want her to know that blood was shed for her rescue. And where that blood came from—mine and the team's."

Daniel was opening his mouth to reply when an orderly interrupted.

"Miss Mal Doran is awake," the orderly announced to Daniel and Jameson. "Just one visitor at a time, please."

Already stiffly rising from her seat, Jameson glanced at Daniel. "Let me take the first slot," she said, balancing herself on her single crutch. "I'll be quick and then I can go get some rest."

Biting back retorts, Daniel nodded. "Alright."

As much as he wanted to see Vala first, all common sense dictated that Jameson should go.

And the colonel hobbled her way over to the room's door with difficulty and a determined frown. But she paused and turned before she opened the door to Vala's room. "One last thing, Jackson," she said.

Attentively, he fixed an anticipating look on her face.

"Something the reports won't tell you." She paused and Daniel could feel anticipation building. "Mal Doran was delusional when we found her. Very delusional. And the entire time, she kept calling out one thing. Do you know what that one thing was?"

Oh, Daniel could think of plenty of simply _wonderful _things that Vala would say, but no particular one stood out, so he shook his head.

The look on Jameson's face was… solemn and purposeful as she said, "Your name."

A frown creased Daniel's face. "What?"

"All she'd say was Daniel," Jameson repeated. "And unless she knows some other Daniel, I'd say she meant you." When he failed to respond, Jameson continued. "I'm not entirely sure what it means, but it's said there's only a small line between delusions and reality. The difference being when you're delirious, you have no inhibitions. Think about it."

On that note, she turned and limped off, leaving the archeologist to his latest discovery.

-------

Marla Jameson was not a stupid woman. Everyone in the SGC would admit to her brilliant strategic mind, and Marla knew that her intuitive nature went beyond strategy—even if most people didn't see that.

Beyond her good grasp on theology and religion (Christianity in particular), beyond her aptitude with weapons, past her ability to learn anything quickly, she was emotionally apt and observant.

Imagine that: the cold, emotionless Marla "The Freeze-out" Jameson could read other people's emotions easily.

And she saw things between Doctor Daniel Jackson and con-artist and thief Vala Mal Doran that no one else would admit. Especially those in question, who Marla knew would vehemently deny everything.

But after all, out of the billions and billions of things Mal Doran could've said in her delirium, she called out Daniel Jackson's name. And after Marla had laid the beaten Mal Doran down on the med stretcher, wasn't it Jackson who dazedly followed it out to the infirmary? Wasn't it also this man who restlessly read through every report on the Ori for some unvoiced reason?

As if those facts alone weren't enough, Marla could just see things between them. They had good chemistry, as Marla had first observed long ago.

And as she limped her way into Mal Doran's hospital room, a rather harsh thought occurred to her.

_So did you and Chris._

The very thought of her departed Major almost made Marla stumble.

But their case was different, she silently argued. Besides, Mal Doran and Jackson still had each other, even if they went on admitting nothing for all of eternity.

_You and Chris admitted nothing. Regs saw to that._

Reflexively gritting her teeth, Marla stopped and closed her eyes. No, she wouldn't second guess her relationship with her second-in-command. Not now, not ever. Chris was to be mourned, not romantically considered. The man was gone, end of story.

If it were meant to be, it would have been.

So she opened her eyes and brushed away the scene of Chris Grouper's face.

Instead, the sight that greeted Marla's eyes was Vala Mal Doran, who was propped against a mountain of pillows in a half-sitting, half-lying position. The way she looked at Marla through eyes surrounded by a motley mix of stitches, burns, scrapes and the tiniest bits of unmarred skin seemed like something from a bad horror movie.

"By the gods, what happened to _you_?" Mal Doran asked.

_If you could only look in a mirror_, Marla thought. Aloud, she said, "Your rescue. That's what happened." Hobbling over to it, she dropped herself into a chair at the bedside.

"Well, at least _you_ can walk," Mal Doran huffed, crossing her arms—one of which was casted in an oddly purple cast. "_I_'m stuck in this bed. Who are you, by the way?"

Reflexively, Marla went a little rigid when she said her name and rank. "Colonel Marla D. Jameson, leader of SG-6." _As good as _that_ title is._

"Oh, right," the thief said. "Jameson the Freeze-Out. Didn't recognize you without the cap and grimy uniform. You know, you really should try something tighter and different. More form-fitting. Leather works wonders for me."

Marla cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. "Like I care."

"You should."

"Oh, yes, I can see it now," Marla said sarcastically. "Me out there shooting at some Ori Priors in heels and a leather mini-skirt." She rolled her eyes, but then she realized that at even the passing mention of the Ori, Mal Doran had shrunken back against her pillow stack.

"Oh, sorry," Marla apologized awkwardly. "Has anyone told you what happened yet?"

The alien shook her head.

"Well, you have little to fear from the Ori now, Mal Doran. That fortress you were in has been destroyed."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Mal Doran visibly relaxed. "I guess I have you to thank?"

"Me and my team—who didn't survive the assault. Also four Jaffa."

"Oh." Pausing uncertainly, Vala stared at the floor. "Well, thank you… and my apologies. And… condolences?"

The alien woman's stumble over last word made even Marla smile lightly. "Thank you. And you don't remember any of the escape?"

Mal Doran shook her head.

"Right. You were barely conscious. Well, I just wanted to prepare you for when Doctor Jackson gets in here." She paused, frowning slightly. "I carried you through the Ori fortress, Mal Doran, and the entire time, you were calling out something. And let me warn you, it was the name Daniel."

Breathing out heavily, Mal Doran's head flopped back against her pillows. "I was…?"

"Yes, you were."

"Does Daniel know?"

"Yes, he does."

Marla expected Mal Doran to groan or something, but the alien remained silent.

And given no opportunity to say anything, Marla found herself yawning into the silence. It wasn't really late around here, but given the day's events, she was flat-out tired. So she stiffly got to her feet, bringing her crutch underneath her uninjured arm.

"Well, I'm going to leave now," Marla said, hobbling towards the door. "Good luck."

"Wait," Mal Doran called.

Pausing in the doorway, Marla turned expectant and curious emerald eyes back at the marred alien woman. "Yes?"

"Will you come back and see me sometime?" she asked. "Seeing as how I'm laid up in this bed for some time."

Startled by the request, Marla frowned, wrinkling her stitched forehead. "Sure," she agreed slowly, thinking it really could do no harm.

"Thank you," Mal Doran whispered, smiling.

Still bewildered, Marla wandered her way out the door.


	4. Emotion

**Emotion**

Both apprehensive and a bit excited, Daniel watched a frowning Colonel Jameson hobble her way out of Vala's room. Jameson usually showed no emotion whatsoever, spreading the rumors that she didn't even have them to begin with, not even frustration or thoughtfulness. And the fact that she was showing at least hints of worried contemplation now was enough to concern Daniel.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Looking up as he spoke, she apparently realized for the first time that he was there. "Oh, no." She paused and looked herself over. "Do I look like there's something wrong?"

Quickly, Daniel shook his head. "No, you just looked very thoughtful."

"Well, I think that I'm pretty much entitled to _think_, Doctor Jackson," Jameson practically spat. "Especially when Mal Doran says something to spark my thinking."

_Vala said something to unfreeze Jameson the freeze-out? What in the galaxy could've done that? Whatever it was, trust Vala to find it._

"Sorry, Colonel," Daniel quickly apologized aloud.

Without even sitting around to hear those words, Jameson turned and started furiously hobbling off down the hallway. The constant _tap-tap-tap_ of her crutch seemed louder and quicker than it had last time Daniel had heard her coming down the corridor and this time it was audible for quite a distance.

Shaking his head and leaving all thoughts of the mystery commander behind, Daniel walked into Vala's room.

Her face turned towards him immediately and the sight of her marred face almost made him gasp. But he managed to hold the sound in, though his face must've given something off in it's place because Vala frowned among the crazy pattern of stitches and bandages.

"What?" she asked. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Oh, no," Daniel hastily lied. "I was just… surprised."

For a moment, Vala was silent as she childishly pouted with a white-taped lower lip. "You know, you're a really bad liar, Daniel," she finally said. "Really bad liar. Now tell me what's the matter."

Sighing, Daniel reflexively brushed his fingers across his face in the places where the biggest lines of stitches were. "Your face… I guess you haven't really seen it yet. You're really stitched and… messed up."

"Oh, the doctors made me ugly, did they?" she huffed. "Oh, how wonderful."

"No, not ugly," he quickly reassured, taking the seat that sat near Vala's bed. "You'll be fine once everything heals up."

Vala rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Because then it'll all be scars instead of stitches."

Not really having anything else to say about that, Daniel fell silent. Being quiet, he couldn't just look at Vala so his eyes dropped away to the floor and various unimportant things around the room. Everything in the room seemed sterile—what else was to be expected of an infirmary room?—and a pale blue was apparently dominant as just about everything in the room from the walls to the sheets were the same color.

"What _have_ you been doing while I was… gone, Daniel?" Vala finally asked, somewhat stumbling around terms for her absence.

"Not much," he replied, looking up again. "Went off-world with the team a few times, scheming for a way to get rid of the Ori problem, reading reports…"

"Your life always was boring," the alien woman said, sighing and leaning back against her mountainous pillow pile.

_Yes, searching for you and pining was getting rather boring_, Daniel thought, trying not to smile. Aloud, he denied that his life was ever boring. "Just because I'm not always doing something physically interesting doesn't mean my life is boring. Not all of us get to stay away from the SGC for months on some odd vacation in the Ori galaxy."

Seemingly stung, Vala's gray eyes grew wide and she pressed back against her pillow. "I was not on some odd vacation, Daniel. I was in a fortress getting tortured for knowledge about Earth and the SGC." The fear and memories flashed past in her still wide eyes, giving a glimpse of just how afraid of the Ori Vala had become.

_How could you have been so stupid?_ Daniel quietly berated himself. It was just a simple little slip, a bit of a humorous poke, but it obviously hurt Vala—something Daniel definitely didn't want to do anymore. She'd been traumatized enough.

"I know, I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. Just curious, did you tell them anything?"

Half-scoffing, Vala rolled her eyes. "Yes, I told them all about your world, how to get to it, how to open the iris, how to get to you. All about all of the just lovely things to do around here…"

Daniel had to try not to grumble. "Ok, what did you _really_ tell them?"

"That Earth isn't worth trying to take over," Vala replied.

"Oh, gee, thanks," Daniel said, rolling his eyes.

"For all you know, I could've saved your whole people by saying that!" Vala protested. "I might've dissuaded the Ori from attacking your planet! For all you know, I could be your hero and your salvation from the evil Ori!"

"Yes, I'm sure you'll be hailed as the greatest hero of all time." Now it was Daniel's turn to roll his eyes. "And I'm sure that they'll even make Vala Mal Doran Day an international holiday."

At that, Vala smiled. "Well, they should. After all, who's more fabulous and deserves their own holiday more than me?"

-----

Sighing as the weight of fatigue pressed against her, Vala leaned back against her pillows. The doctors had ordered Daniel out a few minutes earlier, demanding that the still recovering Vala needed her rest now more than ever if she were to heal properly.

While Vala was more than tired enough to want to comply with that order, she was also reluctant to fall away into the realm of dreams.

When in the Ori galaxy, she'd been subjugated to torture during her sleep and had been tormented for falling asleep too. Those few times when she fell hard enough into her dozing, she would dream.

To her waking surprise, the dreams hadn't been of the worlds she called home at any given time. They weren't about the way she lived, they weren't about the way she lived…

They were about a certain brilliant linguist/archeologist and a world of which she'd seen very little. About a place where she was looked at strangely but where she'd managed to have so much fun and adventure…

Those dreams had kept her going through the torture with hope that she'd get back there, into the safety of the SGC's halls and Daniel's arms.

Now that she was back there, where would her dreams go?


	5. Elusive

**Warnings: Some "torture" near the end, with a bit of a grueling touch. Not too bad, though.

* * *

**

**Elusive**

Sleep came easy to Marla that night, being as flat-out tired as she was. Being the currently highest-ranking military woman constantly on base, she had her own special "room" in the women's barracks. So she was wonderfully shielded from the other women's childish, unnecessarily stupid giggling and gossiping about the goings-on around the SGC.

Marla Jameson did not take part in such petty things as discussing which male scientist or officer—topics varied day to day—was "hottest" and frankly found the fact that any of her comrades _would_ positively degrading.

And tonight, she was too busy drifting right off into sleep's welcoming arms to snap her displeasure at those women.

Considering the earlier assault on her mind about Chris, as she wandered away into slumber, Marla feared what the night might bring for her, whether it was nightmares or positively crazy, dignity-robbing dreams of the "what if?" genre. She wasn't sure she could stand either—the latter being more worrisome to her than the former.

That didn't stop her sleeping mind.

------

"Mar, you're doing it again." Chris's high-pitched voice was a tight but playful warning from beside her as she stood in the line for the commissary's food bar.

"Doing what, Chris?" she asked, turning her green eyes back towards the major from where they'd been focusing on an interesting couple a few tables away.

Rolling his eyes, he fixed his commanding officer with a stare. "Oh, you know perfectly well what. You were staring at Doctor Jackson again, and pretty much gawking, I might add."

"Was not," Marla adamantly denied. "I was _not_ 'gawking' at Jackson. I was watching him and that alien woman—Mal Doran, ain't it?" The line had dwindled down far enough that Marla was able to take a tray and start down the length of the bar. "Just _watching_, mind you, Mr. High and Mighty Christopher Grouper, not gawking."

"Uh-huh. And _why_ exactly were you 'watching'?" Also taking a tray, Chris followed.

"They're interesting." Taking a plate of something that was supposedly mashed potatoes and gravy, but probably had the consistency of gum and the flavor of wood, Marla was faintly touched by the odd sensation of déjà vu. It was a small feeling, but it nagged frustratingly at the back of her mind.

Making a face and pretending to gag, Chris understandably bypassed the hesitantly termed potatoes. "Oh, come on, Mar. I know what you're doing. They're your latest puzzle to figure out. You do this all the time." Pausing, he took a bowl of salad. "You know, you have to stop treating people like they're puzzle pieces."

"I do not treat people like puzzle pieces!" Noticing that the volume of her voice had attracted attention from a few officers and scientists nearby, Marla continued to load her tray and turned the volume of her voice down. "You know I don't, Chris."

She took her tray—now loaded with lots of different colored but oddly equal-flavored things—and sat at the nearest table, with her second-in-command taking a seat on the opposite side.

"You know you do, Mar," he countered strongly. "The only interest you generally show in anybody is fascination with the way they work."

Sighing and regretfully mouthing a forkful of tasteless something-or-other, Marla rolled her eyes. Chris never saw these things the way they were.

After making a face at the taste of whatever it was he'd just shoveled into his mouth, Chris smiled and threw a glance at the object of his best friend's attentions. Doctor Jackson was apparently choking at something that his loud-mouthed, shameless companion had said, and the previously mentioned Vala was just grinning.

"So, what's so interesting about them?" Chris said casually, forking another blob of so-called "food."

"Oh, curious now, aren't we, Chrissy?" Marla taunted, raising an eyebrow. "It's not such a bad habit of me observing people when you want to know what it is I see, is it? Curiosity killed the cat, you know, Chrissy."

"Stop calling me Chrissy, Mar!" the major protested. "You know I don't like that. And if you must know, yes, darn it, I _am_ very curious! So kill the cat, because I'm curious."

Giving her friend a smug smile, Marla again had the feeling of déjà vu—this time stronger. Frowning, she turned her gaze over to Jackson and Mal Doran, still avidly arguing some unknown point. "Well, I'm just marveling at how Jackson and Mal Doran 'bicker like an old married couple,' as they say, but they, well, I don't know exactly… they have chemistry and kind of defer to each other like lovers."

"Maybe they are," Chris suggested, following Marla's stare.

Trying not to laugh, she turned back to her 2IC and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I don't think so."

And that's when Marla realized why she kept feeling that déjà vu. It wasn't just her _feeling_ like she'd done this before. With an almost visible start, she remembered beyond doubt that she _had_ done this before.

_I'm dreaming_, she suddenly realized, relieved. _That solves the puzzle, through and through. It fits perfectly._

"Mar?" Chris's concerned voice broke into her thoughts. "What's wrong?"

_Let's not tell him. Just savor the memory, because it's about all you've got left._ "Nothing, Chris, nothing." She stabbed absently at a wiggling yet solid blob of… wait, hadn't she _already_ eaten the meatloaf? "I was just thinking."

"Ah, thinking can be a dangerous thing, you know," Chris said, poking the air with his shining fork. He swallowed a big mouthful of something, looking up at his commander and shaking the very same fork at her. "Very, very dangerous."

Smiling at him, Marla shook her head at the opportunity Chris had just opened. "Only for you, Chris Grouper. Thinking is only dangerous for you."

"No, Marla, thinking got dangerous for you a while ago." The sheer seriousness in his tone—being something Marla had _never_ heard from Christopher Grouper before—made her head snap up to look at him.

And then she realized that she did _not_ remember this part at all. This is where she left memory behind for sheer, unconscious dreaming.

"What do you mean, Chris?"

The solemnity in his blue eyes was complete and just about sent real shivers down Marla's spine. He paused before answering the question and worry and fear built deep in her gut like she'd never really felt before.

"You've gotten to the place where you're too afraid to live, Mar. Everything has to be thought through, start to finish and all possible outcomes accounted for before you ever do anything. And then you have to take it slow and safe. You're not living, you're _thinking_ about it." The way he spit it out was like the worst of curses. "So where does that leave me? Wishing to all the powers in the entire galaxy that the regs didn't exist and that you were actually human?" He pounded his fists against the table angrily. "Wishing that I didn't actually fall for someone I can't have? Because you know what, if the regs didn't completely forbid it, you'd still make it impossible, Marla. Even if I admitted I love you, you would never say it back!"

-------

She gasped and sat bolt upright even before she was fully conscious, feeling the familiar feeling of sticky sweat making her clothes hug her skin and her short hair mat and cling to her forehead. The sudden movement hurt her bandaged ribs and jerked her splinted foot. Had she been any lesser person with any lesser pain threshold, she would have screamed. Given her moment of weakness though, Marla did gasp and moan.

And for the first time in an eternity, she felt salty tears coursing down her face and eventually dropping into her open mouth.

Then gradually sniffling became harsh, racking sobs and she flopped onto her side, clutching the thick blankets to her chest with her intact arm. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and let the tears flow, gasping along with the sobs as she shivered with the cold weight on her heart.

Crying her heart out to the darkness, she finally mourned her lost lover.

-------

After fretting over what her sleep might bring, Vala had finally fallen deep into slumber and traded the real world for that of dreams. And no matter how she tried to fight it, she plunged right away into a bottomless dream.

At first, she didn't really realize that it was a dream as it seemed so real and the world around her was the one she had left behind when she closed her eyes. If she turned slightly to one side—carefully so as not to harm her broken collarbone—she saw Daniel sitting in the chair at her bedside.

But when things around her began to fuzz and swim a little, Vala realized what she saw wasn't actually there.

Oh, well. Twice the fun.

"Daniel, what're you doing here?" she asked casually, partially worried about what he'd say.

"To ask you something," he answered.

"Well, then ask away, because I'm all ears."

Something about the look on his face just spoke to her, saying, "You're not going to like this question." And when he actually voiced it, she had to say that her supposition was straight-on right.

It was the question she'd been expecting before, but had been graciously denied: "When you were with the Ori, why did you call out my name?"

Being a career thief, Vala had adopted habits that could not be shaken. Call them emotion survival skills, since generally speaking that's what they were. One of the biggest of them was that you never—and that meant _never_—put yourself in a position of weakness. Lie if you had to, just avoid the weak point by all means.

And that's what she did.

"I didn't," she flatly denied.

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "You can't lie your way out of this one, Vala. Colonel Jameson told me everything and even though I don't know Jameson well, I'm willing to trust her word far beyond yours."

That hurt. One of the biggest things Vala had ever wanted from Daniel was his trust. Wasn't that the reason she'd almost gotten herself killed in the incident with the Ori beachhead?

But Vala still was not going to take the low ground.

"Fine, don't believe me," she huffed, folding her arms, cast and all. "You never do."

Sighing loudly, Daniel crossed his arms over his chest as well. "That's because you're a liar, a cheat and a thief."

Pouting, Vala turned her face away from him to stare at a considerably less handsome wall. "Call me what you will, but I am _not_ a liar." She knew that in itself was a lie, but she still would not relinquish her position to Daniel. First rule of war, never give anything to the enemy and in this argument, Daniel Jackson was the adversary.

"You're still lying," he insisted. "Just tell me why of all things, you continuously called out my name while you were in the Ori galaxy."

She could feel her sound defense crumbling already at Daniel's insistence, gradually growing cracks in the well-structured wall. "I don't know," she lied again, this time trying desperately to pour all of the sincerity she could muster into her voice and face.

Being sharp as he was, Daniel didn't take the lie this time either. "Yes, you do. You just don't want to say it."

Again, she reflexively denied everything. "No, I don't know why." But she could hear the insincerity in her own voice and she knew that her resistance was falling to pieces around her.

"Just tell me, Vala."

The quiet, pained begging in his voice finally crumpled Vala's defense.

"Because the whole time, I was wanting you, just to be beside you," she blurted, feeling the beginning of tears. By the gods, when was the last time Vala Mal Doran had really cried? "I wanted you to hold me tight and tell me everything would be alright. Like you held me after I was burned to death. Because you were the one person I thought of the whole time, and I couldn't stand being away anymore!"

-----

Eyes flying open, Vala reflexively stiffened. Warily she scanned the room for other occupants. Luckily though, she saw no one else, not even a lingering nurse.

Good, she could deal with this alone.

Memory flashing back to the dream, Vala swore something fierce and colorful under her breath. How could she allow even her unconscious mind to go there? She dreaded where it had taken her to, even if it was just a dream. Because it had taken her to a place she could never go:

The weak, open ground.

If all she'd said in the dream was how she unconsciously felt… Vala knew she was in deep trouble, thick _emotional_ trouble. But she lived a life full of secrets and hidden emotional baggage carried from her childhood. If she had to bury one more away in her heart, it wouldn't make that much of a difference.

-----

Relieved to be finally putting today behind him, Daniel sighed as he peeled off his shirt and climbed into bed. He could feel the tension already melting away as he tangled himself in the blankets. Removing and folding them, he placed his glasses on his bedside nightstand, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Today had been eventful and taxing.

And the vast majority of that had to do with Vala's wild return. While he had to admit he was relieved to have her back and he felt more complete in her presence—he'd go to the grave blaming that on the bracelets' apparently lingering—no, make that _lasting_ effects—but it also made him worry.

And then there was the disturbing thought of an even tougher-shelled Vala—

Rolling over, Daniel groaned and sighed as he forced those concerns out of his mind. Vala could stay off of his brain at least long enough to let him catch some much needed sleep.

It wasn't long before he began dreaming.

------

He heard the strangled, feminine screams echoing down a golden hallway he didn't recognize, though he felt like he should. And they, along with some unseen and almost indistinguishable force, pulled him onward.

To the source of the shouts and the center of the invisible pull.

Every step that he took, the pulling got stronger until he was running down the endlessly winding corridors. The faster he ran, the closer the walls seemed to press in on him, pressuring him to sprint even quicker.

But the long, curving hallways never appeared to stop—or have any end—and eternity dragged by as he pushed himself faster.

Suddenly, he realized he knew those screams. He'd heard them before and the memory froze his blood as he kept on running, speeding up even more at the cold, hard realization.

Those were the same screams Vala had made as she was burned alive.

And this time, Daniel had to stop it.

He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt in a large room with her chained by the wrists to the opposite wall. The room's expansive width separated them and a Prior stood between the pair, staff poised with its power end at Vala.

That didn't stop Daniel from seeing the panic in her gray eyes, surrounded by a bloody face, as she glanced up. Tears flowed down her face, mingling themselves with blood and becoming deep crimson themselves before falling down and staining the floor. And they formed a scarlet puddle against the gold of the floor at Vala's knees.

She mouthed his name, but the scraping noise that escaped between her lips didn't sound at all like "Daniel."

Oblivious to the exchange, the Prior lifted his staff and pointed the glowing end at Vala.

Though he didn't remember making it, Daniel's ears heard his own desperate voice shouting Vala's name as he dove forward desperately, trying to do the impossible and stop the Prior. His legs were aching from running down the corridors, but he didn't notice the jolts of pain now as he lunged.

He was too slow. Too slow.

Glowing with an eerie gray-blue radiance, the end of the staff stabbed into Vala's chest, rippling flesh around it as it went through. It charred and burnt her flesh, instantly cauterizing the wound with an intense heat before it was even removed.

And the Prior pulled it back out, waving its clean tip in the air.

"And so ends the torture for your disobedience," he intoned flatly. "May your death reconcile you with the power of the Ori, disbeliever."

Before Daniel could extract revenge, the powdery faced Prior disappeared into thin air without so much as a whisper of air. With the object of his attack thus vanished, Daniel skidded to a stop and dropped down onto his knees.

Mouth working open and closed but making no sound, Vala was in obvious pain as a single line of blood ran down from her newly inflicted wound, drawing a crimson tear line across her shirt. Then a scratchy croak escaped, followed by a harsh coughing fit.

Not caring about the scarlet puddle that he'd just sank his knees into, Daniel drew his arms around Vala, feeling the line of her warm blood running down the front of his shirt. It would stain the fabric most definitely, but while those stains might fade, the ones on his heart had no such hope.

She was dying, and again he'd been powerless to stop it.

"Vala," he groaned her name, feeling the knife of guilt plunging into his gut again like it never had before. He was almost tempted to look down and see if there actually was a silver blade projecting from his abdomen.

Coughing in reply, the only thing that came from Vala's mouth was more blood. The thick, sticky liquid stained her lips and dribbled out of the side of her already bloody, marred face.

"Oh, Vala, no."

She looked up to his face, gray eyes clouding over as the cold shadow of Death inched closer. And she gasped as she tried to say something in reply.

"Shh," he whispered. "Don't say anything. You don't have to."

Gasping for breath, she kept trying anyway. Finally, she formed words in a tone so light he almost didn't realize she'd spoken at all. It was just a whisper on the breeze of her breath.

This was worse than watching her burn to death!

He pulled her even closer so her struggling, bloody lips were at his ear so he could hear her light speech. Still, her few words came in almost silent gasps that he had to strain to understand.

"Da—n—iel," she whispered, choppy breath blowing against his ear, "I l—lo—v…"

Eyes squeezing shut, Daniel drew his arms tighter around her in expectation of her words. If these were to be her last, they had to be important. And if she was really saying what he thought she was…

But she never got to finish. She gave another bloody cough and her breath caught. Mouth opening and closing, she failingly gasped for breath as her eyes slid closed.

Horrified, Daniel pulled her even tighter, pressing his clean cheek against her sticky one and whispered his own words in her ear.

"No, Vala, no," he insisted tightly. "Don't go. Just hold on and we'll get you help."

But she was already going and there was nothing that either of them could do to stop it. She took in one last shuddering gasp of breath, and she stopped breathing. The life force left her body behind, and she went on to whatever otherworld there might be.

Daniel was left holding her lifeless body.

------

"No! Vala, no!"

The strangled shout escaped his mouth in a scratchy, desperate scream. It held out long and loud as the emotion swelled in his chest.

Reflexively, he tried to move, but being twisted in the covers, he only succeeded in tangling himself up more and flailing over the edge of the bed onto the floor. His knees hit first, sending a painful jar up the length of his thighs. Next to slam into the hard ground was his chest, jerking his neck back painfully.

For a moment, Daniel just laid on the floor, trying to force the worked-up adrenaline out of his system. And he quietly cursed his nightmare and the pain throughout his body from his unceremonious meeting with the floor in about seven different languages—one of the great benefits of being a multi-lingual specialist.

_Oh, I'm in a mess now_, he thought with a groan. _Dreaming about Vala. Oh…_


	6. Empresses

**Empresses**

Cold Marla Jameson, as bitterly self-reliant as she was, usually didn't eat alone. She'd find some table of scientists or junior officers to sit with, even if she didn't converse with them very much. But given the recently-passed terrible night and its revelations, she wasn't about to sit near anyone for fear of breaking down again in front of an audience. That would be the last knife that went into the pain of losing Chris, and she would not lose any more dignity than she already had.

She was out of sight, and hopefully out of mind today in the commissary. Let all the world pass her by in her little corner, at her own little table. Things were better that way as far as she saw it.

Her tray was as filled as it normally was, loaded down with something from every food group to nourish her as much as possible. No nonsense.

But every time she looked at something, it reminded her of her dream, and of the memory the dream had started with. And of Chris. Every time she tried to lift a forkful of something to her mouth, she stopped less than halfway there.

Finally with a sigh, she stood and balanced herself against her single crutch, leaving the tray behind as she couldn't exactly carry it herself. Let someone else pick it up. She left the rather populated commissary with her head drooping low, and set off back down the hallway to nowhere in particular—her favorite place these days, it seemed.

Lunch today was a failure, but she didn't mind. It wasn't like she could really feel any hunger right now anyway.

She had nowhere to go, no place to be. The aimless wanderer of the SGC.

_At least you _can_ wander_, she told herself quietly. _Mal Doran can't even walk for at least the next month._

_Maybe you should go talk to her._

With a reluctant sigh, Marla took the necessary turns toward the infirmary. There weren't many, and even given her limp-walking situation, it didn't take her too long to get back to the same door she'd hobbled through last night.

_Getting soft, Mar?_ she silently asked herself. _There was a time you wouldn't have come back to visit any sick person. Not after—no, don't even go there._ Those memories and thoughts were a place she closed off even her own self to. Nobody got in there.

Noticing the closed door, she hesitated. Maybe a visit wasn't in everybody's best interests. Hers or Mal Doran's.

But hadn't Mal Doran asked the night before for a second visit?

Shaking her head at her own craziness, Marla tapped the end of her crutch against the door in her own version of a knock.

The reply from inside came quickly, and almost desperately. "Come in," Mal Doran called loudly.

Wrestling with her own crutch and cast, Marla somehow managed to turn the handle and get the door open. She hobbled her way in slowly, glancing to the alien woman sitting up on the bed with her shoulders obviously braced.

"Um, hi there," Marla started uneasily, standing somewhat awkwardly near the door. "I had nothing much to do, so I figured I'd come and visit again."

"Thank you," Mal Doran responded, gesturing for Marla to sit. "It's awful being laid up in this bed, without so much as frequent visitors. The only other people I've gotten to see this morning were the two angry nurses who gave me a sponge-bath."

Smiling lightly, Marla sank into the same seat she'd sat in last night. "I'm glad I've been able to walk and such by myself. Never did well with anyone attempting to pamper me."

"Really? I've always been the opposite."

Marla raised an eyebrow. "Well, good for you, Mal Doran. I guess that's the reason you're the one who can't walk, and I'm the one up here determinedly hobbling around."

"Please, call me Vala," the alien woman insisted. "I've never gone by my last name anywhere."

"Ah. Well, please don't call me by my first name," Marla requested. "Only a handful of people have ever called me Marla, and I probably won't respond. Jameson's my name, always has been."

"Of course," Vala retorted. "I hear that's half the reason they call you Jameson the Freeze-out." Marla could hear the bit of accusation in her tone and took it to heart. "They say you're too cold to let anyone call you by your first name."

"Now that may be," Marla replied evenly, keeping any hint of flaring anger under control. After all, this wasn't by any means the first time someone had brought that particular subject up. "The one man on this base that called me by my first name was killed during your rescue, if you'll remember."

"Major Grouper must've been quite a man to get into your cold heart that way, Jameson."

Struggling, it was difficult for Marla to keep herself from breaking down again at the mention of her lost friend's name. Her grief was still raw, and the mention of his name from anyone was like salt in that openly bleeding wound.

"Chris _was_ something spectacular," she agreed aloud. "Don't you dare say otherwise about the man who gave his life for yours." _About my lover that I'll grieve for eternity._

Taking a deep breath, Vala apparently realized the tender ground she'd unintentionally trampled onto. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Shaking her head to clear the unrelenting image of Chris, Marla sucked in a deep breath herself. "You're irritated and restless. It's to be expected."

A dark eyebrow arched against a forehead of crossing paths of stitches. "I'm what?"

"Irritated and restless," Marla repeated. "You're stuck in a bed all the time with apparently no good company around at all." She paused, fixing Vala with a tight emerald stare. "And you're desperate for attention. I know that because you're trying to make friends with _me_ of all people, Jameson the Freeze-out. The coldest, most unfeeling person in the entire Stargate program, if rumors are to be believed."

Shrugging it off as though Marla's words were nothing, Vala's lips tightened a little. "What? I can't be grateful to the woman who saved my life?—thank you for that, by the way."

Her tone was so casual, it made Marla want to laugh.

"I never said that," she replied. "I just implied I shouldn't be your first choice."

"Why not? You're almost as beaten up as I am, where as everyone else on this base is physically intact, more or less. It means you and I have something in common." She lifted an arm, tapped her forehead lightly with her good hand and wiggled a leg. "We both have a broken arm, stitched face and a broken leg."

"My leg's not broken," Marla reminded her. "My ankle's sprained."

"That's just a technicality. It's useless, so it's as good as broken."

"Not really," she argued. "The healing rate for a sprain is much faster than that of a break, meaning I'll get to walk on my bad foot in about a week while both of your legs are useless for the remainder of the month. That's at least three weeks' difference there. _Big_ difference."

Rolling her gray eyes, Vala folded her arms across her chest. "And apparently we're both avid arguers."

"Not as much as you and Doctor Jackson," Marla pointed out.

Though it was brief, she saw a flicker of something pass in Vala's eyes at the mention of Jackson. Marla wouldn't be able to put her finger on it now, but she'd get it soon enough. She read people, and chances were something related would pass over Vala's face again.

"Leave Daniel out of this," Vala said flatly, quickly changing the subject. "And what does it matter whether my leg is broken and your 'ankle is sprained'? Neither of us can use them."

Nodding, Marla leaned back in her chair. "I'll give you that."

"So neither of us can really walk well, and can't do anything that involves both arms," Vala observed. "Any bright ideas about what we can do? Because as much fun as arguing with you is, I'm not going to do it for the next four weeks."

After a moment's thought, Marla shook her head. "Can't think of anything now."

Vala leaned back against her pillows, groaning. "Come on, there has got to be something on this base to do."

"Nothing that doesn't involve help from someone else. And it's not like anyone around here has time to help occupy two handicapped women. We're not empresses around here, in case you haven't noticed. Nothing hinges on us being busy and staying away from boredom."

"Why shouldn't it?" Vala protested. "I am the current expert on Ori fortresses around here. So why shouldn't people care to keep me interested? I should be an empress."

Rolling her emerald eyes at Vala, Marla leaned back even further in her chair. "Oh, yes, Empress Vala, let's ask General Landry to get some officers to drop everything and stop all of their missions to come and entertain us."

"Ah, now that sounds like fun," Vala replied, smiling. "And I like the sound of Empress Vala. It has a nice ring to it."


	7. Earth

**Earth**

Doctor Lam's eyebrows looked like they were about ready to fly off of her forehead in surprise. "Excuse me, Colonel?" she said, frowning. "Did you just ask what I think you asked?"

"Yes, Doctor, I did," Marla retorted. "What's so wrong with me asking if Vala around in a wheelchair is a good idea? She's getting restless around here and some time off-base might do her some good."

"The first part about that question that boggles my mind is the fact that you're the one asking it, Colonel," the doctor replied, deepening her frown. "And not just that, have you okayed this with the General?"

"Yes, I have. I think he's a tad eager to get her away from the base for even a few moments. Those passes she's been making at the officers seem to annoy him, as do the complaints a few of the officers have filed." She paused, eyes narrowing as she felt the tiniest flash of annoyance at being considered emotionless—a new sensation to her entirely. "And I have as much right to ask this as any person."

Apparently realizing that she'd been caught labeling Marla Jameson as something that she really shouldn't be as a professional physician, Doctor Lam tried to defensively offer a different explanation as to her terminology. "That's not what I meant, Colonel Jameson. What I meant was that you shouldn't be trying to handle a wheelchair, given your current physical condition." Giving a scrutinizing look up and down Marla's odd stance which was adjusting slowly to the lack of a crutch, the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You really shouldn't be walking a ton yourself, much less pushing someone else along."

"I wouldn't be doing it myself, Lam," Marla replied. "Lieutenant Colonel Carter was actually the one to suggest this, and will be going along wherever we may wind up. She'd be the one pushing Vala's wheelchair, not me."

The look of skepticism on the Doctor's face wasn't all that hard to recognize, as much as she tried to hide it. "Well, I guess it'd be fine, Colonel. She'll probably need to take a dose of painkillers during the time you're off-base if it's more than an hour. That's when her next scheduled meds are."

"It's been almost a week since we returned and got all patched up… shouldn't she be off of the pills by now?" Marla asked.

"Not everyone has as high a pain threshold as you, Colonel." Folding her arms across her chest, Lam absently tapped the pen she was holding against one bicep. "While you may be getting over the pains in your broken arm, the majority of people shouldn't be over it yet. And while you only have the arm to worry with, Vala has her broken arm _and_ two broken legs. Actually, the one mending bone where she shouldn't be having pain is in her almost-fixed collarbone."

Nodding slowly, Marla mentally slapped herself. Right, she should have known that. "Speaking of 'almost fixed,' Lam, I have a question." She gestured at the new, smaller and less protective bandage wrapped around her healing ankle. "How much should I be walking on this? Should it hurt when I walk on it? Do I still need to carry the crutch around?"

Marla could practically see the wheels turning in the physician's head as she gently bit her lower lip. "Alright, I'm going to suggest only light walking on the leg for now. Try and stay off your feet as much as possible for now and you should have only minor pains when you walk. And just for your own comfort, I would suggest carrying the crutch with you. That way when you do have to get up and move around, you'll have it with you to lean back on. Especially if you're going somewhere to entertain Vala today." Both of her eyebrows were raised slightly, and she gave the impression she knew what the Colonel was planning. "I'd assume that means walking."

As she slid from her seat on a thin, uncomfortable infirmary bed, Marla couldn't help the light, mischievous smirk that found its way to her face. "I'm afraid that's classified information, and you are not allowed to know."

Lam's only outward reaction was a slight stiffening in her folded arms and the miniscule tightening of her smile. "Fine, your business, Colonel. Just don't push it too far."

Sliding to her feet, Marla nodded as she took the crutch that had been her third leg for the past week in her hand and lifted it over her shoulder. "Got it; I swear, Doc."

Turning towards the door, she lightly tested taking a step on her newly-healed ankle. The first step proved unbelievably easy, but when she swung her other foot forward, thereby putting the balance on her "bad" one, she felt the slightest jolt of pain travel up her leg and through her foot. And determinedly, she ignored it and walked with a straight back and legs that were just as limber as they should be if they weren't in pain.

In short, she walked normally in spite of every impulse to do otherwise.

With each step, the pain grew a little more tolerable and shrank a little further back I her mind. It was like the coaches told you in Little League baseball: just get up and walk it off. Apparently, Marla subscribed to their theory of medicine: walking made every injury better, and in this case, quantity was better than quality. The more you walked, the better you felt. And by the time Marla was out the door, she'd gone from feeling a jolt of pain to a slight tremor.

The two women she met in the hallway never knew the difference.

"Ready to go, Jameson?" asked Vala from her wheelchair. "Did the Doctor patch you up all nice and neat?"

"I'm walking, ain't I?" Marla retorted through straight lips.

Lieutenant Colonel Carter's lips twitched as though she were trying not to smile as she asked, "Ma'am, does Doctor Lam know where you're going?"

"More or less," Marla replied tightly. "But it doesn't really matter. Let's just get off this base."

As Carter swung Vala's wheelchair around and started pushing it up the corridor, the sitting alien woman tossed a mock salute at Marla with her good arm. "Yes, ma'am!"

-------

News and rumors expanded quicker than wildfire at the SGC and pretty much always had. And given the infamous fraternization regulations—callously shortened down to the term "the regs" hereabouts—soldiers and doctors (even though it generally didn't apply to them) on base seemed to adore the subject of romances. Thus the personnel often tried to play matchmakers, putting people together, probably to purposely break the regs and test the degree of the wrath of the higher-ups.

And even apart from all of that, people seemed to be overly perceptive to emotions in this place.

And so someone had apparently realized that Daniel Jackson's overt interest in the Ori had dwindled if not disappeared since Vala's return to the SGC. Not one more extra report had landed on his desk since a bloody Jameson came running through the Stargate, carrying a bundled Vala in her arms. The tall stack of manila folders bearing the SGC logo on the front that'd been teetering on the corner of his wide desk had even been cleared away by an unknown perpetrator sometime recently, swept off to God knew where.

Daniel hadn't even noticed that fact at all.

Now though, the single folder sitting in the middle of his desk definitely caught his attention as he walked in this morning and set his coffee mug down on the desk's corner. Reflexively, he took the report in hand to set it on a pile of similar ones.

It was then he realized the stack wasn't there.

Frowning, he restudied that corner of his desk and wondered why he hadn't noticed the lack of reports swaying there before. Somehow he knew that this wasn't something that had just happened overnight while he was at home… Whoever had taken the liberty to do this had done it at least a few days before…

Deciding that it didn't really matter and there was no time like the present as they said, Daniel sighed and brought the folder back to himself. With it lying in front of him on the desk, he still hesitated for a short moment before opening it, figuring what interest did he still have in the Ori?

His eyes skimmed uninterested over the first lines of printed words that listed the time the report was filed and the location. That much wasn't interesting: it was filed at the SGC around noon a day previous. But what was written below those two lines changed his mind about his interest in this report.

It was a record of Vala's debriefing about her time in the Ori fortress.

Apparently,_ some_ things about the Ori still held interest to him: their torture methods.

Bracing himself for what he knew he was probably about to read, Daniel subconsciously felt his jaw tighten a bit. He knew Vala had endured torturous things, but had never had the courage to ask Vala herself and had preferred until now to remain in the dark about the details to her torment. The nightmare he'd had scared him enough about the various sufferings she might have endured, but it also made him curious as to what she'd really gone through.

Finally, he worked up the courage and flipped past the first page and began reading.

Immediately, the words captivated him.

"_After being sucked into the black hole and into the Ori galaxy, I was in a small village on a primitive planet. Especially awful fashion-sense with those people. I couldn't stay near them too long. They weren't the most friendly of people I've met either, and when they started spouting off religious crap like Priors, I told them I didn't think the Ori were gods in spite of all of their power. And I told them that I had seen far too many false gods to ever believe in one again. I even told them I'd been a false goddess myself before._

"_Mistake. Big mistake._

"_First, they tried to burn me at the stake for being a heretic and insane, according to their claims. The fire was lit and I was tied, ready to be scorched alive—not an experience I was eager to repeat, mind you—but as before, a Prior showed up and put a stop to it._

"_Though glad for his help, I tried to resist the Prior. He dragged me through the 'Gate completely against my will. And so I found myself in the fortress._

"_First, I was questioned by those boring Priors—not even half-interesting Ori followers to interrogate me!—with stupid questions about Earth and your people. Really pathetic questions, too. As in what the population was, how big the planet was, where large cities were… I told them I didn't know anything. It's close enough to the truth—I don't know much about you Tau'ri that would interest anyone._

"_Anyway, they didn't buy it. I tried my best to convince them I didn't even know what 'Earth' and 'Tau'ri' were and meant, but they didn't believe me._

"_So they chained me to a **wall** in a small, gray room with no food or light and let me sit in the dark for several hours. I don't know just how long it was that I sat there, but however long it was, I almost wish it would have lasted longer._

"_When they came for me, the torture started."_

Unconsciously, Daniel started at the words.

Half of him was completely appalled at the idea of Vala being shut away alone in a dark room, while another part of him argued that he'd often shunned her and wished to send her away. But, he returned, his treatment and wishes for her to be anywhere but by him had definitely changed since her return from the Ori galaxy.

Aloud, he wasn't about to admit to anything to her—or anyone else—but he knew that he'd been feeling differently about Vala since Jameson extradited her.

One particular phrase of the report stuck to Daniel's mind as if glued.

_However long it was, I almost wish it would have lasted longer._

It didn't even sound like Vala. She wasn't afraid of things like that. He almost doubted the words had come out of her mouth at all. Almost.

Re-bracing himself because he knew that the worst part of this report was yet to come, Daniel again turned the page of the report and hoped Vala hadn't gotten too graphic describing her torment. He'd rather not be sitting here gagging at the mental pictures.

"_The first that they did wasn't so bad. It was the Priors who did the things to me, pointing their staffs and wagging them around._

"_The very first thing they did was point their staffs at me and I got this hot feeling throughout my body. And the heat spread and slowly intensified, and that wasn't all. Tingles all over, especially in the fingertips and toes. I told the Prior that he was making me feel all warm and tingly deep down, he told me there was no time for games._

"_And so they continued with more intense torture._

"_They scraped the tip of their staffs across my face and tore it apart. I could barely even see for the blood in my eyes and couldn't have talked even if I wanted for the blood in my mouth. But I still told them nothing._

"_Then they took the staffs and stabbed me repeatedly in the chest, though not very deep. Deep enough for it to induce severe pain, but not enough to kill me right away, I suspect was their intention. And the staff tips were also hot as they touched me that they burnt the sides of the wounds and kept them from bleeding. As small a relief that was._

"_Punches, hits, stabs, cuts… They did all of that the first round._

"_Two hours, I'd say they stood there and tormented me. And I gave them nothing that entire time._

"_And the next time—"_

Images both conjured out of his imagination and those remembered from his nightmare flashed through Daniel's head as he continued to skim onward. Just the thoughts made something inside of him yearn to hold her in his arms and protect her from any similar thing ever happening again. And oh how he wished he could've been there to stop it or at least to whisper encouraging and comforting words in her ear, to touch her and let her know she'd make it through.

At least she had. According to her descriptions and Doctor Lam's upon Vala's return to the SGC, it was a miracle she'd survived all of this.

The next page detailed further torture sessions that Vala admitted not being able to tell one from the other, nor how long they lasted. She also confessed she wasn't entirely sure how much of what she remembered had actually happened, knowing that she'd been in a deep delirious state for a long while before Jameson rescued her.

Closing the report, Daniel wondered if it'd been a good idea for him to even read that. Images attacked his brain and he couldn't stop the horrors he saw in his mind's eye. Some were real memories, some of his nightmare and others he had involuntarily pictured just now, reading the report.

Vala's burnt, lifeless corpse in his arms…

A Prior's staff stabbing into her flesh…

Her head thrown back as an agonized scream came from her mouth…

Jameson laying her bloodied, unconscious body on a med stretcher…

Standing from his desk, he resolved to go and see her, knowing it would likely be the only thing to put a dampener on his tumultuous thoughts. Seeing her alive and whole…

But when he got to her infirmary room, he found it surprisingly empty with no Vala around anywhere. Closing his eyes, Daniel leaned against the door frame, contemplating where she might've gone on base. There wasn't really anything of interest to Vala around here, after all, and she _was_ in a wheelchair…

"Doctor Jackson?" a voice broke into his thoughts.

When Daniel opened his eyes, he found Doctor Lam standing there, arms wrapped around a large stack of papers and clipboards, staring at him a little oddly.

"Can you tell me where Vala went?" he asked calmly though right now he still felt anything but.

"Colonel Jameson and Colonel Carter took her off-base for a little while," the physician replied. "She was going a tad stir-crazy sitting around here all day." An inquisitive look passed over the doctor's face. "Wait, you didn't know?"

He shook his head, wondering why no one had told him this—especially Sam.

"Is something wrong?" Lam asked.

"No, no, nothing wrong," he answered tightly. "Thank you." Setting off back down the hall, he resolved to put Vala out of his mind for now and just get his work done for the day. He'd get over this crazy nagging in his mind alone.


	8. E Pluribus Unum

**E Pluribus Unum**

"At least I won't have to wear those awful, dull BDUs anymore," Vala cheerfully proclaimed as Sam Carter pushed her wheelchair down the hallway of the SGC. "Your people's clothes aren't that wonderful themselves, but anything's better than those monotonous BDUs. Seems to me the Tau'ri need a fashion sense."

"Some Tau'ri _have_ a 'fashion sense,'" Marla retorted, determinedly keeping her eyes off of the alien woman in the wheelchair. "Maybe very few, and maybe not your kind of fashion, but, believe it or not, some of them _are _as obsessed with their clothing as you."

"I'm not obsessed," Vala protested. "I'm passionate."

"Yeah, right," Marla muttered under her breath. "All past experience would speak otherwise." One of the four bags she was carrying on one arm for the alien woman to whom she was speaking threatened to slide to the floor, and she quickly readjusted her position to better hold it. She just barely caught it. "As will _current_ experiences."

"Darling, this is now all the clothing I own." Vala raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think I'm allowed to be extravagant this once?"

That drew a small smile from Carter, who glanced at Marla. "She's right, ma'am."

Eyes narrowing only vaguely in her subordinate's direction, Marla replied, "There's more clothing in these four bags than _I_ have in my entire wardrobe."

"That is sad, Marla," Vala said, shaking her head. "Very, very sad."

_No, it's realistic for a military woman_, Marla thought, but didn't say. And she purposely ignored Vala's use of her first name—it wasn't the first time today she'd had to do it. As much as it annoyed her that Vala was deliberately trying to provoke her, she was going to give Vala absolutely no satisfaction by displaying it.

Instead, she glanced at her wristwatch, gladly realizing that she had somewhere to be other than here in the next fifteen minutes. "Sad or not, me and my bland wardrobe have work to do." Again, she swiftly altered the position of her arm, preventing another bag from sliding off. "I'll carry these wherever you need me to, but I've got to go."

"Oh, so soon?" asked Vala.

_She can't be so desperate for companionship that she'll try and keep _me_ here._ "Paperwork waits for no one," Marla responded aloud.

"I've got work to do too, Vala," Carter put in. "Sorry. I'll take you back to the infirmary."

Though she probably tried to keep it otherwise, Vala's still stitch-covered face visibly fell at the thought of returning to the infirmary where she'd remained for the past week. Despite that, her voice was steady as she said, "Oh, alright."

For a moment, Marla considered making some sort of suggestion as to where Vala might be able to go… But before she could voice any opinions or ideas, the thief's face quickly brightened and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Actually, I think I have a better idea."

-------

The lab was empty when Sam first pushed Vala's wheelchair in, and so she was hesitant to leave. With a little bit of prodding, Vala convinced the astrophysicist that she would be perfectly fine by herself for a few minutes. And coincidentally, she didn't even have to sit alone for those few moments.

Less than a minute after Sam left, Daniel reappeared in his lab/office.

With her broken arm, Vala was unable to move around in her wheelchair alone, so she stayed in the spot where Sam had originally left her: right by the door, facing it.

So she got a good view of Daniel's startled face when he walked in to find her—one of his greatest annoyances—sitting there, idly waiting for him to return. If she could've been sitting on the table seductively, she would've, but just grinning seductively when he walked in would have to suffice for her in her current state.

And his face at that sight was quite a sight in itself.

"Vala!" he exclaimed, almost jumping. "What're you doing here?" He seemed… jittery to Vala at the moment. A bit shaken up.

She almost wanted to ask what it was, but she thought the attempt would be fruitless and besides, she absolutely couldn't resist smilingly taking the opportunity he opened for sarcasm. "_Breathing_, Daniel," she said. "What else?"

That seemed to calm whatever it was bothering him at least a little bit. Rolling his eyes and setting the folders in his arm down on his desk, he went on, "I thought you were off-base with Sam and Jameson."

"I was," Vala replied. "We just got back."

"From where?"

"We went shopping at what Sam called a 'mall,' I think," Vala responded, carefully craning her neck just to try and keep her eyes on Daniel as he moved along a massive bookshelf, selecting a few specific volumes that looked worn beyond use. "Very interesting, though I still think you Tau'ri have next to no fashion sense as a people. Most of the clothes in that place were absolutely hideous."

As he was facing away from her at the bookshelf, Vala couldn't really see Daniel's face, but it looked like he smiled lightly at her words.

Raising her eyebrows, Vala cocked her head slightly to one side and continued, "Though I have to say, some of it has promise."

Daniel glanced back over his shoulder at her. "I take it that means you actually found some of our boring, fashion-less clothing worthy enough for your wardrobe?"

She nodded. "Yes, actually."

"How much did you get?"

"Oh, just a few things here and there," Vala eluded, averting the question.

Fixing her with a fairly harsh stare, Daniel raised an eyebrow at her. "Vala, how much is 'a few things'?"

She gestured lightly with her good arm. "Oh, only about four bags full or so."

After widening briefly in surprise, Daniel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who paid for all of that?" As if believing she might have somehow taken it from him, Daniel's hand hovered over the pocket Vala knew from past experience he kept his wallet in.

"Oh, I think Marla paid for it all," she said dismissively. To be perfectly honest, she hadn't really paid that much attention.

At first, Daniel looked relieved and his hand resumed drifting across the volumes on his shelf. Then he turned back towards her a frown creasing his face. "Marla?" he asked. "Who's Marla?"

_Does no one know her first name?_ Vala thought. _That woman is truly sad._ "Colonel Jameson," she said aloud.

That seemed to surprise Daniel. "Oh, really? She really paid for it?"

"Yes, really," she replied. "And I learned from this little outing that you Tau'ri have odd currency." Taking it from her pants pocket, Vala fingered a coin she'd stolen from Jameson earlier that day. "Your coins are so _small_, and I've never seen anything like this 'paper money' of yours before."

As he turned around and laid the various books he'd selected from the shelf on his desk, Daniel saw the coin Vala fingered. He opened his mouth to say something—probably chastisement of some sort for stealing it—but closed it again when he saw exactly what kind of coin it was.

And from that look, Vala surmised it was likely next to worthless. She pouted internally. It just figured the one coin she managed to snatch was valueless.

One of her nails scratched over the words on the smooth, shiny copper metal. The pictures on either side were somewhat odd in her thinking, but most of the words were simple, at least. Except one phrase. "Daniel, what is this 'eh-ploor-i-boos-un-oom' that's on all of the money?"

He looked up with a light smile on his face. "It's not 'eh-ploor-i-boos-un-oom.' It's pronounced '_ee plur-i-bus oon-um_.' It's an old language we call Latin and translates into 'Out of many, one.' It's one of our country's mottos, used to signify our different people groups coming together as one nation."

"Out of many, one," Vala said, trying the phrase on her tongue. "I like that. Kind of like me: one unique, special person out of so many."

Some sort of reply or more probably a snappy retort formed on Daniel's lips, but he caught himself before it came out, likely thinking better of it. Instead, he sat down silently behind his desk and opened an exceptionally large tome that he'd just laid there.

A temperate silence hung between them for a moment. Gently turning her head so as not to harm her still-mending collarbone, Vala looked at Daniel, bending over close to that big, dusty book with that oh-so-familiar "thirst for knowledge" look on his face. And after that moment, Vala abruptly decided like she usually did that she was bored and bothering Daniel was probably the only thing that would keep her interested at the moment.

"So, Daniel, what're you doing now?" she started. Pestering questions were always easy to come by.


	9. Empty

**Empty**

"I heard you wanted to see me, sir," Marla said, poking only her head into Landry's office. "I supposed that meant as soon as possible…" She eyed an abnormally large stack of paper work on one side of his desk and the single manila folder laying open in front of Landry as the general glanced up at her. "…but if you're busy, sir, I could—"

Landry closed the folder and laid his hands over the top of it. "Actually, now is perfect, Colonel."

With a curt nod, Marla brought the rest of herself into the square room. She stood with a taut, official bearing until Landry motioned for her to sit. She then took the chair in front of the desk and remained straight-backed and stiff as she waited for the General to tell her whatever it was he had to say.

"I know you have an appointment with Doctor Lam soon, so I'll make it as brief as possible."

"It'll be much appreciated, sir," Marla replied curtly.

After a suppressed sigh, the general laid the closed folder atop the straight pile of similar ones. "Well, I have two bits of news for you actually, Colonel," he said. "Firstly, your report has made it all the way to the top of the chain, even to the Oval Office, and from what I gather, folks are impressed. The president himself is quite impressed, I hear. And I get the impression you're finding yourself pretty close to a promotion."

As the shock wore off and Marla was once again in control of herself, she blinked very slowly. "Really, sir?"

"Really, Jameson," he affirmed.

And that, remarkably, meant that Marla's almost abandoned hopes of attaining generalship weren't as out of reach as she'd estimated. After all, if she was as close to a promotion as Landry was implying, she might very well be Brigadier General Marla Jameson quite soon.

Wouldn't that be wonderful? She'd already passed her fortieth birthday a few years back, and here she was, staring generalship right in the eye.

Finding herself wandering too far away, she drew herself back to the general's words.

"Seems the whole insubordination was overshadowed by the courage and self-sacrifice," Landry said, a spark in his eyes the only easily discernable expression he wore.

_But obviously not completely overlooked_, Marla thought bitterly. If she was so close to promotion, it was probably not by Landry's choice. But why would it be? When she wound up as a Brig General, she'd be only one star beneath Landry, and obviously there was no intelligent reason for a general to hold the position as the leader of an SG team. She'd either move Landry up the chain and away from his current job, or would leave the SGC for some other important post — possibly even Atlantis.

Either way, Landry lost and Marla won.

But Marla wasn't about to say a word of that to him. For the time being, he _was_ still directly over her.

So she skillfully masked it behind words. First, she considered "As it should be," but felt that would only rub harder on Landry's obviously sensitive nerves about her insubordination. So instead, she said something more profound. "My team gave the real sacrifice, sir." Just the thought of them—her 2IC in particular—tugged at Marla's heart.

Landry nodded. "Those who don't come back have given more than those who do." He gave a short sigh and went on. "As a matter of fact, that brings me to the next bit of news, Colonel."

_Sure, use the title so much I have to remember I'm still a Colonel_, Marla thought.

The general paused long enough for Marla to prompt, "Sir?"

"I know it's only been a week an a half since you lost your team, Colonel, but I'd like you to begin considering who'll be your new team. There's quite a list of people who are more than willing to join you on SG-6."

With a hand, Landry slid the stack of folders across the desk to Marla.

A sickening start made her shudder slightly as she realized what the stack was compiled of.

Personnel files.

Of people who wanted to replace Lieutenants Beau Adkins and Gregorio Gonzalez.

People who wanted to replace Chris Grouper.

The thought turned Marla's stomach. She was about to be forced to choose people who would take the place of not only two very trusted lieutenants who fit perfectly into her team with no objections to her abnormally stiff way of command, but of her beloved 2IC. Someone to replace the man who had managed to slowly earn her trust—something that was not freely given, by any means—and who had won her heart.

She was being asked to replace the irreplaceable.

Not only was her heart sickened, her stomach literally turned at the thought. She would never get over Chris… How was she supposed to replace him this soon?

After staring at the horrid stack of folders for several long moments, she forcibly turned her emotionless emerald eyes back to Landry, who had been silent. "So soon, sir?" she asked, likewise forcing her voice to remain steady.

"We'd like you to begin picking as soon as possible, Colonel," he responded, just as evenly, "so that when you're once again able to return to active duty—within the month and possibly within two weeks, Doctor Lam assures me—your team will have been trained. That way, we'll have SG-6 out on duty as soon as possible. With the way the Ori have been moving, we can't afford to keep any team inactive for long, Colonel."

The fact that Landry had used her rank several times during this meeting but never her last name as he was previously fond of doing didn't pass by Marla unnoticed. She nodded tightly at his words. "I understand, sir." Her voice remained as taut as her expression was nonexistent.

With a quick sweep, she gathered the stack in her good hand. The simple motion already made her heart feel like it was dying.

Knowing she might burst if she sat here any longer, Marla stood and turned to leave.

"Another thing, Colonel."

Landry's words made her freeze, and she turned to glance at him over her shoulder. "Yes, sir?"

"There are some files of field-trained scientists among those." He gestured to the stack in her hand. "We'd like you to consider adding one to your team, as opposed to being a fully military squad."

By the tone of his voice, Marla guessed that it was less of a suggestion and more of an order than the general's words let on. A very strong request, maybe.

Marla wasn't too fond of having a scientist nagging around when there was military work to be done, but would consider the ones in the files in the hope of keeping her dreams of generalship alive.

It wasn't like she was going to grow in any way attached to these new team members anyway. They were just stand-ins for the real ones she'd lost a week ago.

"Will do, sir," she replied curtly before sweeping out the door.

Subconsciously, Marla's feet carried her where she was supposed to be going: to the infirmary for an appointment with Doctor Lam, after stopping off her room and dropping the despised personnel files onto her bed. The walk down the halls between there and the infirmary was completely unrealized by her as she was completely engrossed in already denouncing the people who wanted to replace her old team. She didn't even notice until she was in the room and the mentioned physician was speaking to her.

"Well, Colonel Jameson, there you are," Lam said, planting her hands on her hips. "You're late, you know."

Startled from her stupor abruptly by the tone of another's voice, Marla looked up at Lam, and then glanced at her watch. Apparently, Landry had run a little longer than expected. "Guess I am," she said nonchalantly, taking a seat on one of the infirmary beds as she usually did.

One of the doctor's brows rose while the other sank a bit. "No excuse as to _why_, Colonel?" she asked. "I'm not in the habit of allowing people to be late without a reason."

"Had a meeting with the general," Marla muttered. "Ran a bit long."

Lam took a tool from a nearby table, readying herself to cut out the two separate rows of stitches on Marla's face. "Can I ask about what?"

Marla couldn't hold in the sharp, bitter chuckle that hissed from between her lips. "He gave me a stack of personnel files and told me to start picking a new team."

_You shouldn't be telling her this_, a voice inside Marla whispered. _She i_s _Landry's daughter, and what you say's gonna get back around to him. _But another part of her argued that Lam and Landry weren't on good terms with each other, and most likely nothing she said was going to get back around to the general.

Lam's hands froze in their work as she said, "He did?"

"Not in those exact words, but more or less." Marla sighed as Lam continued to go about removing stitches. "Supposedly it's so we can get SG-6 up and running as soon as possible. One week, and they're already making me replace my team."

There was a slight pause, the only sound being the metallic clipping of the doctor's tool.

"Not replace, Colonel," Lam said, switching to the other, shorter set of stitches as she finished the line of the first. "You can't replace the men you've lost. But this new team will have its own place with you."

Marla scoffed. "As far as I'm concerned, this new team has little to do with me."

With one hand full of metal thread that had been formerly lodged in the colonel's face and the other holding the tool that had clipped it, Lam moved away to set her things back on the small table. After that, she turned back to the colonel.

"But they _will _be_ your_ team, Jameson."

Marla knew the stare that she returned to the physician was flat and emotionless. She didn't have to force it to be that way. "Only in a technical sense. _My_ team died eleven days ago at the hands of the Ori. They will never be replaced. I'll pick some new people to make up SG-6, Lam, but they won't _ever_ be my team."

The look in the doctor's eyes told Marla that Lam thought she was crazy and being preposterous, but she didn't say a thing as she slowly walked back to the bed Marla was sitting on. Also wordlessly, she took a hold of Marla's cast.

After a short moment of examining the arm, the physician poked a finger at Marla's fingertips. Marla felt her touch surprisingly well.

"Flex your fingers," the doctor ordered.

Marla opened her mouth to remind Lam what had happened the last time she attempted to flex her fingers: failure. But she quickly closed it again at the determined look on Lam's face and did as she was told.

Remarkably, her digits responded this time by wiggling slightly.

"Huh," she murmured.

The doctor responded with a "hmmmmmmm" of her own. Again she began to touch what of Marla's hand protruded from the cast. Surprisingly, Marla found that her previously immobile fingers were responding quite well.

"That shouldn't be happening yet, should it, Lam?"

Frowning, the doctor shook her head. "No, it shouldn't. Your arm is apparently healing _very_ well, Colonel."

"Yeah, well, there's nothing wrong with that, is there?" Marla responded.

Lam's stare turned from Marla's arm to her face. "No… Not really."

"Well, then, let's just say it's from me drinking my milk like I'm supposed to," Marla responded, beginning to stand up.

"Not likely, Colonel," Lam responded, wrapping a hand around Marla's good wrist to keep her from going anywhere. "Even a high amount of calcium wouldn't…" She broke off as she shifted her grip on Marla's wrist. Her eyes immediately turned down to it as she lifted it closer to her face.

Not for the first time this week, Marla noticed how thin her arm looked, as well as the overt leanness of her hand. She knew why too. She'd barely been able to eat anything for the past week and a half as it brought back memories of her Chris…

Now cautious that this might lead Lam closer to her secret, which would then lead to disaster for her career, Marla jerked her wrist from the doctor's grip.

Lam's eyes went wide as she did so. "Colonel Jameson, have you been eating?" she asked, eyes abruptly narrowing suspiciously.

"Just fine, Doctor Lam," Marla hedged. Quickly, she began walking towards the door. She didn't actually expect to toss off the doctor's curiosity this easily, but perhaps Lam would heed the warning in her tone.

"Colonel…"

Obviously not.

Pausing for a short moment, Marla looked over her shoulder with a firm stare at the doctor. "I'm fine," she said forcefully. "Drop it."

With that, she strode unchallenged from the infirmary.

-----

Carolyn Lam stood and watched, astounded, as Colonel Jameson practically marched her way from the infirmary, stiffer than ever. The rigid stance and false verbal assurances that she was fine told Carolyn more about Jameson's situation than the actual thinness of her body.

She wasn't eating. That much was obvious.

And it was for emotional or mental reasons she didn't want to admit too. That was a tad less obvious, but still evident.

Probably a result of being forced to chose a new team so soon.

Jaw clenching, Carolyn set out of the infirmary too. She had a bone to pick with the general in charge around here.


	10. Erudite

**Okay, this came along a little later than I expected, but I got it finished! Yay! And I'm proud to announce this story has now passed the 20,000 word mark! Hooray!**

**No real Daniel/Vala in this chapter either... But please, no rotten veggies!**

**Next update should be: 4/29 (I know, that's quick!)

* * *

**

**Erudite**

Taking his now-full tray of food from the buffet line, Daniel strode over to the small table where Sam was already sitting, and took a seat on the opposite side. The commissary was bustling around them, but neither really seemed to notice. Ever since Sam had come back to the SGC from Area 51, they'd been having lunch together at least once a week.

Daniel was very glad for it this week, as he hadn't been able to speak with Sam since her shopping trip with Vala and Jameson a few days ago. Hadn't had an opportunity to verify Vala's story with Sam.

"So… you took Vala to the mall?" he asked.

Sam looked up at him with an extremely surprised expression on her face. "She told you about that?"

Confused by his friend's reaction, Daniel's eyebrows rose. "Was she not supposed to?" he asked.

"No," Sam answered a bit too swiftly. "No, no. I just didn't think she would."

"Oh," Daniel said, covering his skepticism at her answer by looking down to his tray. "Well, as I was going to say, whose bright idea was it to take _Vala_ to the _mall_?"

That made Sam's mouth quirk into a smile. "Colonel Jameson. They all say she's such a brilliant strategist, but she wasn't smart enough to know taking someone like Vala to the mall was a bad idea."

Daniel smiled faintly. "Was it her idea to take you?"

She shook her head. "I think that was more of Vala's idea."

"Probably," he agreed. After a moment of silence, he went on. "Vala told me she got a few things." At this, Sam's eyes went wide as they had a moment before, and Daniel clarified, "Clothes, and the like. She apparently thought that _some_ our 'fashion-less' clothing was worthy of her wardrobe."

"Yeah, she decided that after quite a bit of complaining and groaning about the ugliness of it all." Though Sam rolled her eyes, she smiled lightly.

"That's Vala," Daniel mumbled. After a moment of hesitation, he pressed on. "Vala told me that Jameson paid for it all. Is that true?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Jameson was actually happy to pay for it all." A sudden frown creased her face. "Wait, are you saying you didn't believe Vala?"

"Well—" Daniel started.

"Daniel, I know she doesn't have the best track record, but haven't you noticed how much she's changed since Jameson brought her back?" Sam went on before Daniel could fully answer. "Can't you see it?"

"Yes, Sam, I can but still…" Daniel sighed. "She _stole_ from Jameson," he said purposefully. "I'd say that would mean she hasn't changed all that much."

"It was a _penny_, Daniel," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, but Vala didn't know it was worthless. Wait—" Eyebrows raising, he stared at his friend in disbelief. "You _knew_ about that?"

"Yes, and so did Jameson. In fact, she practically handed it to Vala."

His reply was short. "Oh." It was then that Daniel realized how awfully he had underestimated not only Vala, but Sam and Colonel Jameson as well. He really should've known better than to assume…

Slowly, he sighed. "It's just so hard to think of Vala differently than the thief, liar, vixen and con-artist."

"I know, but as I said, she's changing, Daniel," Sam said slowly.

He nodded, and the friends fell silent for a moment.

Unnoticed by Daniel as he was looking down at his food, Sam's eyes focused past him towards the doors of the commissary.

"So… Have you talked to Jack lately?"

As she was apparently absorbed by whatever she was staring at past Daniel, Sam gave no reply to the question. So he glanced up to see her eyes slowly and diligently tracking someone behind him.

"Hello?" Daniel asked after a moment. When she still didn't answer, he waved a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Sam. Come in, please. Earth to Sam."

Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance and quickly apologized. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Nothing important," Daniel replied, taking interest in whatever had so captured Sam's attention. "What were you staring at?" The moment he chose to turn his head in an attempt to find out himself, Jameson walked by and he had his answer. "Oh. I see."

After she nodded, Sam's head turned discreetly as her eyes tracked Jameson's movement. They followed her all the way to the buffet, at which point Sam would have had to seriously and obviously crane her neck to see.

Daniel, however, was able to watch her easily, staring past Sam. "Is anything about Colonel Jameson particularly interesting today?" he asked quietly.

"Not today in particular, but something's wrong with her," Sam replied.

"I think more than one thing's wrong with that woman," Daniel retorted.

Sam gave him an exasperated look. "I mean something recent. Lately she's been… acting oddly. More so than she used to."

"How so?" Daniel asked.

For a moment, Sam thought about the question while her eyes focused on nothing in particular. "She's distant," she finally answered. "Acts strange, and reacts to some things in the oddest ways."

Carrying a sparse tray in her good hand, Jameson passed Sam and Daniel's table. After self-consciously glancing around herself, she sat down at an empty table in the very vacant corner of the commissary.

"And doing things like that," Sam added. "I guess you could probably chalk it up to mourning for her team…"

"It's more than that," Daniel said slowly as the idea dawned on him. "More than just losing her team… She's lost something more."

"Friends?" Sam suggested skeptically. "I've never known Jameson to be friendly. Even with her team… Well, except Major Grouper."

Daniel barely even heard her as he was intently watching Jameson, as everything he'd glimpsed and then wondered about her for the past week and a half suddenly falling into place. "I think she lost more than a friend," he said slowly. If what he thought was actually true, Jameson was very lucky no one else had noticed before now… But he'd been through it, and he knew the symptoms.

For the past five minutes she'd been sitting at that deserted table, she hadn't taken a bite of the food on her plate. Only stared at it.

As if something about it just turned her stomach.

Perhaps, something about it did. Something no one besides Jameson could see. Like a special memory, prompted by the food, but not centering on it.

A memory centering instead on the "friend" and comrade she had lost…

"More than a friend?" Sam asked, her surprise amply evident in her tone. Suddenly, her voice was almost silent and her eyebrows rose. "You mean like…?" She trailed off suggestively, suddenly conscious of the people around them and the trouble she could get the colonel into.

Daniel nodded, and Sam's eyebrows rose even higher.

"Jameson? Break regs?" she asked disbelievingly.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"This_ is_ Colonel Never-Break-A-Rule Jameson we're talking about, Daniel."

"The very same one that disobeyed an order quite thoroughly not two weeks ago," he pointed out.

Sam conceded the point with a gesture of her hand. "Yeah, but still… I have a hard time believing Jameson would break the regs. Even after seeing her with Major Grouper. _Especially _after seeing her with Grouper. They never seemed to be more than friends. Good friends, yes, but still friends."

"A lot of couples seem that way," he replied pointedly.

As a slight blush rose to Sam's cheeks, her gaze turned away, and happened to rest on Jameson. For a moment, she contemplated the lonely colonel, and the way she stared blankly at the tray in front of her.

"Vala seems to have a cheery effect on her at least," she said after a moment.

As Jameson stood and emptied everything off of her tray into a trash can before leaving the commissary, Daniel nodded. "That's a good thing. Jameson could probably use some cheer."

* * *

**And now I have a bone to pick with you readers...**

**This story is on the favorites list of 10 people, and the alerts list of almost 30, but I only have around 6 loyal revewers.**

** And that sucks.**

**No, that REALLY sucks.**

**What, you don't have any concrit (constructive criticism) to offer? Then tell me so! Say anything, just review! I love feedback! **


	11. Electrified

**Well, I had this finished Friday like I planned, but as you all noticed, the site was having technical difficulties and I couldn't post it. As people have asked, there are both a good Daniel/Vala moment in this chapter and a few good Marla/Vala moments. Hope you enjoy them.  
**

** Next update will take a while... I have a couple of oneshots to finish... Next update is planned for 5/18.**

**Oh, yes, I almost forgot... The Ancient at the end of the chapter is based only partially on actual Ancient learned from a site called "Children of Atlantis," and since I couldn't find everything I needed there, the rest is rough Latin.

* * *

**

**Electrified**

For some reason, Vala had a bad feeling about this, and after years in her line of work she'd learned to trust those gut feelings. Often they kept her out of trouble… Well, out of _deep_ trouble. She was always in some sort of trouble, regardless of her hunches and preventive measures.

And somewhere in her, a voice was protesting this, and warning her something was going to go wrong.

She tried to tell herself it was because SG-1, just like the other SG teams, hadn't been on any mission in the past two weeks, as everyone was a little afraid of the Ori's reaction to Jameson and Vala's escape. It was feared that the Priors of the Ori would somehow strike out at them on any world they visited, as opposed to their previous indifference to the presence of the Tau'ri. Vala really did try to convince herself she was worried about SG-1's ability to defend themselves against a determined Prior, but she wasn't able to deny that that wasn't all that was on her mind.

On some level, she knew and admitted that she was afraid of being left alone.

And that gut feeling that something was going to go wrong made it that much worse.

Still, she sat completely still and said nothing aloud as Sergeant Harriman dialed the Gate. Nor did she protest as he finally said, "Chevron Seven, locked!"

Instead, she watched silently from the control room as SG-1 appeared in the Gateroom below, geared up and ready to go. Mitchell, Sam, Teal'c and Daniel stood, right to left in that order, ready to embark on their first mission in two weeks.

Vala almost felt like they were somehow abandoning her…

"Don't worry," a voice said from behind her.

Craning her neck, Vala saw Colonel Jameson standing not far behind her wheelchair, watching the team moving around in the Gateroom as well. Vala noticed her casted arm was no longer held in a sling as Jameson's focus remained on SG-1 for a few beats. After a moment, she turned and locked gazes with Vala, the tiniest quirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"They'll be back within two hours."

Vala turned to stare back down at the team, who were slowly headed up the ramp towards the Gate. "Supposedly," she muttered.

"Almost nothing here ever goes as planned," Jameson admitted slowly. "But this is just a routine, boring, everyday mission, Vala. It's not like they're going all the way to Pegasus or anything."

Sighing, she nodded. "At least it's not that. But I still can't shake the feeling something's going to go wrong."

"It'll be fine," Jameson assured again.

SG-1 had reached the even horizon by then, and began to pass through. Before he stepped through the Gate, Daniel stopped and turned around. Looking right at Vala—and perhaps Jameson behind her—he offered a light smile and a short wave of his hand before he took the step through the shimmering blue event horizon backwards.

Vala was pleasantly surprised by that. "Did he just—?" she started.

"He did," Jameson quickly answered before Vala could even finish the question. "He smiled and waved."

Unable to stop it, a smile spread across Vala's face. "I thought he did."

With a sigh, Jameson rolled her eyes. "Don't let it go to your head. If it hasn't already…"

_Too late_, Vala thought. Aloud, she said, "I won't, and it hasn't."

Raising an eyebrow, Jameson gave a low chuckle. "Yeah, right," she said sarcastically. "_That_ was a _lie_."

_Yes, it was. _"It most certainly was not!" Vala protested out loud, hiding the untruth behind a well-crafted mask. After all the years she'd spent being a fantastic liar, she wasn't about to let Marla Jameson be the one who saw through her with such a small, simple lie.

"It most certainly was," Jameson retorted. "However, I'm not going to argue that point with you." With her good arm, she began to slowly turn and push Vala's wheelchair. "It's past lunch time, and while I've already eaten—" There was the tiniest tremor in her voice here that she quickly—though not quickly enough—covered. "—I'm fairly certain you haven't."

Before she could say anything, Vala's stomach growled in acknowledgement.

"Uh-huh. You were so worried about SG-1, you forgot to eat."

_And let's just hope all of that worrying was in vain, _Vala thought as Jameson wheeled her off towards the commissary.

-----

The world seemed average enough. P32-1161 sat a little ways out of the normal range of planets visited by the SG teams, but from appearances, it was about the same as several they'd seen before.

Now the climate seemed mild, somewhere around a mid-spring feel as the sun sat directly overhead, indicating it was around noon. Lush green grass somewhere around shin-height sprang up all around with small weeds growing wildly in its midst. About half a mile ahead, the trees began what appeared to be a large forest. Somewhere within that forest, a lake or pond was barely visible. No civilization was thus far visible.

And here, around the Stargate, there were crumbling stones that seemed to be part of some ancient ruins.

Yep, typical world.

"Doesn't look like a Prior's gonna pop out anytime soon here," Mitchell observed. "Doesn't even look like there's any locals in the immediate area."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed.

Daniel's fingertips trailed along the top of a particularly flat-topped rock of the ruins as he walked past it. "Well, there had to be someone here at some point. The ruins are here for a reason."

"Well, let's see if we can find any living civilization before we start examining the dead ones, Jackson," Mitchell said.

"Fine," Daniel said a bit reluctantly.

He really would like to examine these ruins a bit. After all, he _was_ an archeologist, and dead civilizations _were_ his specialty. As they were passing out of the ring of ruins, a particular pillar-like statue caught his eye.

Unlike most of the other parts of what was probably a series of small temples that had crumbled all to pieces, this particular pillar had remained mostly unscathed. It stood about ten feet tall, and about three feet wide and deep.

As Daniel squinted curiously at it, he noticed there seemed to be writing etched onto the tall, rectangular stone.

A special form of Ancient writing.

"Hold on a minute, guys," he said, changing course towards the pillar. "This looks interesting."

The rest of the team stopped, glancing at him.

"Jackson…" Mitchell started.

"Just a minute," he answered. "This might be able to tell us if there's anyone left on the planet, and where."

As soon as he was close enough to really see the inscription, Daniel began reading aloud in its natural tongue. "_Qua es augustum eh ambrosium… cicatrix duh Anquietas. Toa absum abesse afuir_," he read slowly. He paused for a moment, and contemplated the words. "Huh."

After a few beats, Mitchell coughed loudly and suggestively.

Daniel was paying him and the rest of the team—really, the rest of the planet besides the pillar—no attention and completely missed the cue, brow furrowed in thought. What in the world was that inscription supposed to mean?

"Jackson, could we have that in English, please?" Mitchell said after another few moments. "My Ancient's a tad on the rusty side."

"Oh, right," Daniel said, suddenly remembering his comrades. "Loosely translated, it means, 'This is holy and eternal: the scar of the Ancients. You must be away.' And I have no idea what that's supposed to mean."

"'You must be away'?" Sam asked. "Not 'you must _stay_ away'?"

Daniel re-read the phrase again in its Latin-like Ancient, and again ran the translation through his head. "No, '_absum abesse afuir_' translates to be away, or be absent. 'You must be absent' or 'you must be away'."

"Well, then, maybe we should do as the nice stone pillar says, and leave," Mitchell suggested. "It just might be what got rid of the civilization that was here."

"I don't think so," Daniel said slowly. "It says it's the scar of the Ancients. The _Ancients_ put it here. Why would they kill off the people of this planet?"

"Well, we've seen places where the Ancients have messed up and killed people before," Sam pointed out. "Maybe it was some malfunction of a technology they were developing, and it had some bad effect on the population. We've seen it before. Whatever it was that they did, they probably didn't do it on purpose."

"I'm not so sure they did anything," Daniel responded. Bending down, he checked along the lower half of the pillar for any more writing. After a moment, he spotted a very tiny inscription that ran along one corner all the way to the ground. Again, he read it aloud in Ancient first as he translated the words. "_Si praedico devino, adligo laratus eh conecto nexilis_. 'As prophecy foretells, to bind the bound and tie the tied.'"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Mitchell asked.

Frowning at the phrase as he reviewed it, Daniel shrugged. "I really don't know."

"Perhaps it is some sort of riddle," Teal'c suggested.

"Maybe…" Daniel replied. He reached out a hand to brush his fingertips along the thin strand of Ancient letters.

The very moment he touched the pillar, a large zap of electricity passed into him. The shock of it knocked him off of his feet, making him tumble back into the grass as the prickling sting of it coursed throughout his body. It caused his body to jerk and convulse for a moment before it subsided.

The other three members of SG-1 were at his side immediately.

"Daniel!" Sam cried, taking a hold of his arm. "Are you alright?"

He could still feel residue of the shock in his extremities, as they were all tingling, but other than that and a spot on his back he knew would bruise from the fall, he felt just fine.

And he said as much. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Mitchell and Sam pulled him to his feet, and surprisingly, he didn't even feel the least bit dizzy. The minute he stood, he had his balance despite that constant tingle in his feet and toes.

"Are you sure, Jackson?" Mitchell asked. "That was quite a jolt you took there."

Flexing a bit, Daniel confirmed that nothing really hurt. "Yeah, I'm perfectly fine."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. The nausea and dizziness came out of nowhere, and before he could contradict his own words, the world went black.

-----

It came out of absolutely nowhere.

One minute, she was laughing at something Marla had said, the next her body was wracked by convulsions. Her back arched against her wheelchair back, as she cried out in what sounded more like shock than pain to Marla's ears. Her eyes were wide as her body went through its wild and unexplained spasms…

Almost as if she were being electrocuted.

Immediately, Marla flew out of her chair and to her side. "Vala? Vala, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer, but instead continued to arch her spine and jerk with the convulsions. Her teeth gritted and she let out a low groan.

Heads turned immediately from everywhere else around the commissary as all attention focused on Vala's mysterious behavior.

"Medical team, stat!" Marla called. "We need some help here!"

Her attention turned back to Vala, who was still convulsing as her good arm gripped the side of the wheelchair. Not knowing what else to do, Marla seized a hold of her shoulders and tried to stop the shaking. After one particularly rough spasm, Vala's breath caught and she sputtered before sucking in a deep breath.

And then her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed.

Unconscious.

Letting go of her shoulders, Marla's fingers went to Vala's neck to check for a pulse. She could feel it strongly, but it was erratic and had no discernable beat.

It was then that the medical team decided to show up and transfer Vala to a stretcher.

* * *

** Oh, yes, I know... Cliffie that I'm gonna make you all endure for weeks... I am so evil. **


	12. Experts

**Sorry this took so long, and sorry if people drift OOC, but my brain has been uncooperative this week.**

**Oh, I've been nominated for the Stargate Fan Awards! Yay! I don't think this story qualifies though, because it's a WIP... Still, if you folks want to vote for my other works, they'll be listed under the name "Nerca Beyul".

* * *

**

**Experts **

Somewhere he could hear the faint, rhythmical sounds of what he thought might be hospital monitors. One did have the oddly sharp sound of a heart monitor, a constantly annoying chirp that set the beat for the harmony—though the noises didn't really blend as a harmony so much as just synchronize themselves. When his sleep-fogged brain finally came around enough to understand what he thought it was that he was hearing, he wondered why in the galaxy he'd be asleep in a hospital.

Then, ever so slowly, the memory of passing out on P32-1161 returned to him.

_Not a hospital_, he thought. _The SGC infirmary. Sam, Mitchell and Teal'c must've brought me back through the Stargate._

When he opened his eyes, light harshly assaulted them, and he reflexively pulled his eyelids back across them tightly. After a moment, he gradually opened his eyes again, and let them slowly adjust to the brightness.

After they did, things were still blurry—Daniel wondered where his glasses had gone—but he still recognized the SGC infirmary around him. Leaning back against the pillow on his bed, he gave a sigh of relief.

Doctor Lam appeared over him and offered his glasses back to him. "How're you feeling, Doctor Jackson?" she asked.

Daniel set the glasses back on his face. "Alright," he responded. "But I have—"

"—a _splitting_ headache," finished a familiar, almost Australian voice.

Startled, Daniel propped himself up on an elbow and looked over to the neighboring bed from whence the statement had come. His eyes found what he expected. Vala gave a monstrous grin, and Daniel could practically feel the glee coming from her.

"I knew you couldn't stay away from me for long," she said.

Astounded, Daniel glanced back to Doctor Lam.

She shrugged, and cleared her throat before saying, "Around the time Colonel Carter indicated you touched the stone pillar on P36-1161, Vala began experiencing extreme and sudden convulsions—"

"Right in the middle of the commissary!" Vala chimed in. "I must applaud your impeccable timing, Daniel."

"—and then passed out," Lam continued, not in the least distracted by the other woman's interruption. "She was brought here, and we found that her blood pressure was high and her body was going into shock. We couldn't find any reason why it should be happening either. Until, about five minutes later, Teal'c and Colonel Mitchell dragged you through the Stargate in the same condition. Colonel Carter explained what happened—and about the inscription on the stone pillar, as well. She theorized that the jolt given by the pillar somehow captured the residue of your bond, and reawakened it. So we brought you in too, and both of you stabilized. But you've both been out," she glanced at her watch, "for about an hour."

"Oh, my God," Daniel muttered, smacking a hand to his forehead. "Oh, _no_… 'As prophecy foretells, to bind the bound and tie the tied.' I should've known!" He fell back against his pillow, covering his face with his palms.

"Doctor Jackson?" Lam prompted. "There's more."

Spreading his fingers, Daniel looked at the physician through them. What more could there possibly be?

"We—Colonel Carter and I—have speculated that the bond might have strengthened," she said slowly. "A lot. Before, you could only be apart for about an hour without being affected. When you touched the pillar on P36-1161 and reawakened the bond, you both fell unconscious within the space of a minute. It may have been due to the electricity itself, but we're skeptical about that since it didn't happen directly after the electrocution."

Very uncharacteristically, Daniel spat a strong Chinese curse under his breath. If last time with Vala had been frustrating with her constant need to annoy him, now it'd be torturous since he couldn't even stay away from her for any sizeable length of time.

"Now, Jackson, that's not nice in _any_ language."

At the sound of a drawl-tainted voice, Daniel noticed Jameson now standing near the ends of his and Vala's beds. One of her auburn eyebrows was arched at him, and a flush rose to Daniel's cheeks as he realized that the colonel probably _had_ understood what he'd just said.

Vala immediately noticed his blushing, and looked at Jameson expectantly. "Ooh, what'd he say?"

A smile quirked the edges of Jameson's mouth, but she firmly shook her head. "I won't repeat it." When Vala raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth again, Jameson quickly added, "In any language."

Vala's eyes widened as Daniel smacked his hands across his face again. "Ooh, it was that bad?" she asked.

"I said I won't repeat it," was Jameson's short reply. "Which means, I'm not gonna repeat it. Or tell you anything whatsoever pertaining to what Jackson just said." She glanced at Daniel and he thought he saw the colonel wink quickly. But before he could determine if she did or not, she cleared her throat and added, "Actually, Doctor Lee's waiting down in Lab 6 for you two. Been waiting for you to wake up. I'm sure you want some tests run to determine what exactly has changed…"

Daniel hoped that this time Lee could find some way to break the bond between himself and Vala. If it was strengthened, though, he doubted anyone would be able to do anything.

He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that.

-----

Watching from a corner of Lab 6 as Doctor Lee hooked the "happy couple" to a few monitors, Marla couldn't help but smile internally at Jackson's apprehension about the bond… and the underlying gratitude that he was rebound to Vala. He would probably never admit to it, but Marla thought he was thankful for the opportunity to keep a closer eye on Vala.

And Vala, of course, was completely excited about the whole thing.

For her, being bound to Daniel once more meant that she was never bored again, as she had been very frequently lately. He'd be unable to go off-world now that he was bound to the injured Vala… Which meant that she really could be with him almost all the time.

Which, Marla knew, amused her to no end.

"Now, this is an electro encephalograph and it's going to monitor your brainwaves so we can determine the response to various stimuli…" Lee started, indicating the wires that attached to small monitors on both Daniel and Vala's heads, then into a laptop computer. "Which should help us figure out a way to… break the bond, if that's at all possible. And comparing it to the old readings I have from last time—" Daniel rolled his eyes and Vala grinned. "—we can see how much has changed."

He turned to the laptop, and hit a few keys. Instantly, a frown creased the doctor's face, and he tapped at a few more keys.

"Something wrong, Lee?" Marla asked, walking to peer over his shoulder at the computer. "You're looking awfully concerned there."

"Irregular wave patterns," the scientist muttered, transfixed by the display on the computer screen. Marla stared at them, then raised an eyebrow at Lee. He caught the hint and traced a finger across the wavering lines on the screen. "Brain wave patterns are unique to each individual, and vary greatly. But if you look, here," he pointed to a particular wavy line on the half of the screen displaying Vala's brainwaves, "and then compare it to this," his finger traced a place on Daniel's display, "you can see the same pattern running through them."

Marla had to admit that the moving lines were following a similar patter in the place Lee had indicated.

"Same thing here," he added, indicating a place on Daniel's display, then where a similar line pulsed on Vala's.

"What does that mean?" Daniel asked.

Lee took a moment to stroke his chin thoughtfully before he said, "I think this bond is running deeper than anyone realized." He ignored the look Daniel shot him, and hurried over to the phone on the wall, tapping a few buttons before speaking into it. "Can we get Doctor Lam down to Lab 6?" he asked. "And Doctor Connors," he added after a moment's hesitation.

For a moment, Marla just blinked in surprise at the names Lee had just called. "The physician and the psychiatrist?" she inquired. "Calling in the experts?"

"Why?" Vala asked slowly.

"Lee, _what does that mean_?" Daniel repeated, jabbing a finger at the laptop.

The scientist didn't answer _any_ of the questions directed at him as he hung up the phone.

"Doctor Lam and Doctor Connors to Lab Six," Sergeant Harriman's voice echoed on the speakers throughout the base. "Doctor Lam and Doctor Connors to Lab Six."

"Lee!" Daniel practically shouted, definitely catching the scientist's attention this time. Marla suppressed a smile as Daniel jabbed a finger at the computer again. "What does that mean?"

Blinking a moment, Lee finally said, "I'm not sure yet."

"About what?" asked Doctor Lam from the doorway. Behind her stood Doctor Connors, the SGC's resident psychiatrist.

Doctor Lee beckoned them both over with a wave of his hand, and both women came to stand by the table where the laptop computer sat. Standing behind them, Marla craned her neck over Connors' short, blond head to look at the display again, even though she'd already seen it.

Tracing a finger over the waving lines, Lee pointed out the similar brainwave patterns. After saying some big psychological mumbo-jumbo that Marla didn't understand or pay attention to, all three doctors remained silent.

"Uh… what does this mean?" Daniel prompted after a moment.

"It means—and could mean—a number of things," Lam said.

Doctor Connors cleared her throat. "Foremost, that you're now bonded on the psychological level. Before, it was only on a physiological level. This is much deeper than it was before, and than anyone expected." She paused for a moment, letting that sink in. "And it might mean that you're… in each other's heads, for lack of a better term."

Daniel and Vala exchanged a bewildered glance. "_What_?" they chorused.

"Have you been hearing odd things in your minds?" Connors continued. "Or any faint noises in your thoughts?"

Both Daniel and Vala's jaws dropped, then they quickly agreed, "Yes!"

Doctor Connor began pacing. "Interesting…"

"Doctor Connors…" Daniel started. "How is this possible? How can we be expected to get along being in each other's minds?"

"There's nothing we can do," Lee spoke up. "You're going to _have_ to get along."

Slumping back in his seat, Daniel covered his face with his hands. "Oh, great. Psychologically bonded, and in each other's heads, and we have no choice!"

"I did notice earlier that your heartbeats are in sync," Doctor Lam put in. "Beating at once. At first, I thought it was just coincidence. But now, I'm not so sure it is. I think you're likely bonded physiologically too, but much more so than last time."

"Even better!" Vala spoke up.

Daniel shot her a glare, but didn't say anything.

Marla noted that this was going to be a _very_ interesting week.

* * *

**Oh, yes... Doctor Connors is my own creation... ((pats Connors on the head))**


	13. Especially

**Sorry this took so long. First, the last chapter of my Dukes of Hazzard fic took too long to finish. Then, I got distracted with other things. Then, I had technical difficulties. Then I was VERY busy for a week with RL. THEN, I left my notebook with everything written in it at church.**

**But it's here now.**

**And it's my only major project now. Which hopefully means updates will be quicker.

* * *

**

**Especially**

Oh, this had been one a hell of a week.

Through testing, it'd been determined that the maximum range that Daniel and Vala could have for any length of time was a mere forty feet. If it was pushed any further, both began to feel dizzy, then disoriented and finally, after about twenty minutes, both fainted simultaneously.

That irked Daniel to no end, but greatly pleased Vala.

"We're inseparable, darling," she'd said with a grin.

The glee had only grown when she realized—and pointed out—that their previous sleeping arrangements would no longer work. The forty feet the bond allowed didn't cover the space between Daniel's quarters and the area of the infirmary where Vala had been staying. And there were no available quarters that close to the infirmary, and Vala was unable to stay by herself in her condition.

And so it happened that they wound up having to share a room.

At Daniel's absolute demand, the room's queen sized bed was exchanged for a pair of twin-sized ones. Not that it made all that much difference. On the morning after the two had been first forced together, Daniel appeared exhausted, as though he had slept little or none.

Which didn't surprise anyone. Especially Marla.

She, having been around Vala for the past three weeks, had seen firsthand how the lack of sleep was making the archeologist even more irritable than he already was with Vala. She found it entertaining most of the time, but after the day she was forced to pick her "new team," Marla had a very short temper and found Daniel and Vala's constant bickering extremely irritating.

----

For reasons Marla never voiced, Lieutenant Colonel Kylie Skinner, Lieutenant James Oliander and Doctor Randy Thrace all annoyed her. They were all top of the class sort of folks, and in Marla's opinion, the best of the best among the personnel files Landry had given her. Even so, the two Air Force officers and the physicist irritated her. The "new SG-6" knew that she disliked them, but none of them asked why, never even mentioning her snappish mood and temperament with them. Whether they had it figured out or not, Marla didn't care.

They knew they were detested by their CO, and not for their personal selves.

During their first meeting, Marla didn't even bother faking a smile, but shook their hands with a completely straight face. Her grip was firm, and she measured the firmness of Skinner, Oliander and Thrace's grasps as well.

None of theirs were as tight as hers, but they were all solid enough.

Skinner and Oliander, being experience Air Force officers, kept their mouths mostly shut during the meeting. However, Doctor Thrace ventured into words at shaking Marla's hand.

"It will be a pleasure serving with you, Colonel Jameson," he said. "I've heard a lot about you."

Marla raised an eyebrow, and Skinner glared at the scientist. Her stare clearly told Thrace to keep his comments to himself, or he would likely find himself in pain.

"Wish I could say the same," Marla murmured to herself, moving on. To the men and woman, she said, "We have one week until I get my cast off and into physical therapy. Another week after that, and I'll be back on active duty. You three have that first week of training together, and the second to train with me." She sighed inwardly. "Then we're off to save the galaxy repeatedly from really evil bad guys who double-talk way too much. You'll get used to it."

-----

It'd been like this all week. He was getting no work at all done with _her_ sitting around to bother him. And with her thoughts around to annoy the hell out of his brain. But of course, she _couldn't_ go anywhere because of the bond. Daniel started hoping when she picked up one of his books and began reading, staying silent for five minutes.

He hoped in vain.

"Dan-iel!" Vala whined. "Let's go down to the commissary now. I'm hungry."

Daniel groaned. "Vala, we just ate breakfast an hour and a half ago," he responded. "We don't—"

"No. _Now_."

He could feel across their bond that she wasn't going to give this one up. With a sigh, Daniel got up from his desk and made his way around it to grip the handlebars of Vala's wheelchair. "Fine," he agreed. "We'll go _now_." He pushed the chair out of the room and into the hall.

"Yay!" Vala said triumphantly. "Thank you, Daniel!"

"You're welcome," he grumbled reflexively.

As Daniel wheeled Vala along down the hallway, towards the commissary, he noted that the corridors were uncommonly empty for this time of day. He paid it no mind, however, and moved on to the commissary anyway. When they came to the doors of the commissary, he noted with a frown that no light was coming through the windows set in the upper part of the doors. Odd, he thought. Curious, he stopped Vala's wheelchair and walked around it to push open the door. He poked his head into the room and for a moment, just stared.

There was absolute darkness beyond the door, where a usually well-lit room should have been.

He frowned. That was—

Suddenly, the darkness was banished by a bright light that revealed a ton of people, all grinning.

"Surprise!" they yelled in unison.

Daniel could only blink at the group of people standing before him, still grinning, as he was completely and totally speechless. Today was—?

"Happy Birthday, Daniel."

He turned around to see that Vala was grinning too, wrinkling her scared face all the way up to the corners of her gray eyes as she spoke. He found himself smiling back at her as he felt her pride echo into his mind.

"You mean today is my birthday?" he asked.

"Yep," she said shortly. "July 8th."

Daniel's brow creased slightly as he continued to smile. "Huh. I didn't even remember."

"Obviously," Vala responded.

"Well, isn't that just like you. Completely forgetting important dates and all."

Turning at the familiar voice, Daniel was once again surprised. There, smiling just like all of the other people standing around, was his best friend.

"Jack!"

"In the flesh," his friend responded.

Daniel brought him in for a very quick hug, not having seen Jack in several months. "You flew all the way in from Washington?" he asked as they separated. "Just for this little party?"

Jack nodded. "Especially for you. The man who forgot his own birthday."

"Speaking of which, don't _forget_ a certain someone!" Vala practically yelled from behind Daniel.

He quickly whirled around again, remembering that he had indeed forgotten Vala at the door. Gripping the handles of the wheelchair again, he began pushing it across the room, following a few steps behind Jack as the general made his way toward a table atop which sat a plain cake. He offered Vala a short apology.

"You planned all of this?" he asked her.

"I helped, but it was actually Sam who put everything together," Vala responded. "She also helped me pick out your present."

Daniel stopped. "You got me a present?" he asked slowly.

Vala's face broke out into a huge grin. "Of course." She drew a small box wrapped in bright paper from behind her back and proudly handed it to Daniel. "Chosen especially for you." When he just held it in his palm for a moment, she added, "Go ahead! Open it!"

Quickly unwrapping and opening the box, Daniel found a glasses case inside. He opened it too, revealing a nice, but simple pair of spectacles. Definitely his style, too. Greatly surprised, all Daniel could do was stare at them for a long moment.

"To replace the ones I broke," Vala explained. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"Oh, Vala…" Daniel breathed. Removing the old glasses and setting them in the case, Daniel placed the new ones on his face. He found that he could see perfectly through them. He wondered how Vala had gotten a hold of his prescription, but decided not to ask. "Thank you."

Vala beamed. "You're welcome. Happy birthday."

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Uh, Vala… Who—?"

"Marla," she answered before he even finished the question. "When we went shopping for my clothes, Sam mentioned your birthday and Marla suggested I get you something. And offered to pay for it."

Daniel's eyebrows rose in surprise as his eyes scanned across the gathered guests for the mentioned colonel. He finally caught sight of her short reddish hair as she moved towards the door.

"Excuse me for a moment," he hastily said, leaving Vala and her wheelchair by the cake table as he hurried towards the disappearing colonel. He knew even without the bond that she was acting disgusted and muttering about being left right after she gave him a present, but he didn't turn around to respond, rushing after Jameson.

_Geez, for a woman who just recovered from a sprained ankle, she sure moves fast!_ Daniel thought, practically running through the crowd of people smiling and telling him "Happy birthday!" to catch up with the colonel.

He finally got close enough to call out her name when he passed outside of the commissary doors and into the empty hallway. "Jameson, wait!" he yelled.

Already halfway down the corridor, the colonel stopped and turned around, raising an eyebrow at him.

For a moment, the words stuck in Daniel's throat. "Uh, thanks, Jameson," he finally said. He paused, then corrected himself. "Marla."

He could practically see her force herself not to snap at the use of her first name, and was surprised when she instead said, "For what?"

"Everything," he immediately answered. Realizing that that probably wasn't the best description he could've given, Daniel added, "For taking care of Vala, and being her friend. And for paying for her clothes and everything. And for paying for my gift." He tapped the side of his new glasses lightly. "Even if Vala didn't say something, I know she's thankful for what you've done."

Jameson opened her mouth, then closed it again. She was quiet for a moment before saying, "I know. And you're both welcome." With that, she turned and walked away down the hall.

_Since when does Jameson do things like this?_ Daniel wondered for a moment. But, after that short lapse, he shook off the thought and returned to his birthday party.

* * *

**Thank you in advance for reviewing!**

**By the way, the plot is about to take a major twist in the next couple of chapters. So they'll probably be nice 'n' long**


	14. Entrance

**Woo-hoo! New chapter!**

**And in this here chapter, my friends, is the first twist. Hope you all enjoy it.**

**Also, our beloved Prometheus is mentioned in this chapter... I wanted to remind everyone that this story is now AU, and so in my world, Prometheus is still around. **

**Thanks to (LJ users) herxcelncy and jennyannhass for the beta!

* * *

**

**Entrance**

"Unscheduled off-world activation!"

The words seemed to echo through the halls of the SGC more and more often these days, no one—save the General—hurried to the control room every time Harriman shouted the words anymore, as they had done in years past. It happened too often lately for anyone to be excited by it.

Always, a team was coming back early and hot, or the Jaffa were reporting that another of their worlds had been visited by a Prior.

Never any major trouble anymore.

Little did anyone know, today's alert was going to be quite different.

---

Landry was absent from Cheyenne Mountain today. Gone to some big meeting in Washington for the better part of the day.

And so when Harriman's alert of "Unscheduled off-world activation!" resounded in the hallways of the SGC, no one at all was sent running to the control room. Just happening to be walking by the corridor that lead to the control room at that moment, Marla decided, with a sigh, that she should just go and see what was going on this time.

After all, with no General around, someone had to make Harriman feel needed.

"What's up, Sergeant?" she asked upon entering the control room. She glanced up through the glass and noted that the Gate's iris was already closed.

"No IDC as of yet, ma'am," Harriman responded. "But the wormhole just opened, so we're waiting."

After a moment, Marla began to frown, but she deliberately stopped herself from asking the question right off. But when the wormhole had remained open for five minutes and nothing at all had come through—neither radio signal, nor anything striking the still-closed iris—she glanced at the readouts around her.

"If nothing's coming through, shouldn't it be closing down?" she asked.

Harriman was frowning too. "Yes, ma'am, it should be. But it isn't."

"Someone dialing in to prevent us from using the Gate to escape?" Marla inquired, even though she doubted this was the case.

"Nothing on deep space sensors, ma'am," a tech spoke up. "_Prometheus_ is in orbit, and it hasn't reported anything either. Nothing's out there, ma'am."

_Oh, God, this sounds familiar_, she mused silently. She was quite capable of remembering the escapade three and a half years ago, when this same exact thing had happened. But Marla knew that this wasn't being caused by the device that Anubis had used against them years ago. Not only had it been destroyed, so had Anubis.

And some gut feeling whispered to her that it was the Ori causing this.

"Story of the SGC, eh?" she said, trying to alleviate the bit of tension that had silently set in over the techs in the room. "It shouldn't be, but it is." She sighed. "Look for the tiny power flux that we found last time this happened. That should tell us if it's the same weapon."

After a moment, one of the techs shakily announced, "Colonel Jameson, we can't find anything at all coming through. Even that small."

Marla took in a deep breath. "Okay. Harriman, try and shut it down."

The tech obediently tapped a few keys on his board. When nothing happened, he repeated the action. He looked up to Marla with a slightly less than surprised expression on his face. "It won't shut down, ma'am."

"Well, then. I think we have a problem." She switched almost immediately into command mode. "If it stays open for five more minutes, put the base into lockdown. When it exceeds thirty-eight minutes, put out a distress call. Right now, page Colonel Carter and have her come up here to take a look at things."

"Yes, ma'am," Harriman said with a tight nod.

Turning, Marla faced the glass window, staring at the Stargate below. She grasped her good hand and cast together behind her back in a military stance trained into her body after so many years.

_This could be just what I've been hoping for_, she thought. _Handle this little crisis, and the Air Force has no choice but to promote me again. I'll be General Jameson soon._

"Colonel Carter to the control room, Colonel Carter to the control room."

Marla glanced down at her watch. The Gate had been open for eight minutes, and still nothing had come through. She glanced back up at the Stargate itself, noting that it looked so perfectly normal.

The sound of footsteps reached her ears, and Marla turned to find not only Carter entering the room, but also Daniel, pushing Vala's wheelchair in front of him. Marla felt her eyes narrow the tiniest bit. It probably wasn't the best idea to have a pair of useless civilians hanging around at the moment. Had it been anyone other than Daniel and Vala, she would've immediately ordered them out.

"Where's the rest of the band?" Marla asked sarcastically.

Daniel didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. Marla guessed it was from years spent with Jack O'Neill. "Teal'c and Colonel Mitchell are on Dekara," he answered. He paused, taking in the tense mood around the control room. "What's going on?"

"Well, we have a problem," Marla responded.

Carter raised an eyebrow. "What _kind _of problem?" she asked.

Taking another deep breath, Marla glanced over her shoulder at the Gate, then back to the lieutenant colonel. "The Gate has been open for almost ten minutes, and nothing at all has come through. Not even the tiniest power feed like when Anubis attacked three years ago. And it won't shut down, either."

Carter had already walked over and dropped herself into one of the tech's chairs. "Oh. _That_ kind of problem." Her fingers flew across keys, bringing up diagnostics as her eyes scanned over them.

Marla glanced to her watch. "Ten minutes. Harriman?"

He nodded, and began the base's lockdown procedure.

"What's he doing?" Vala asked, eyeing the sergeant.

"Putting us in lockdown," Marla answered, once again assuming her position by the glass. "We've got a situation, and I don't want to open up whatever's wrong here to the rest of the world."

"Well, who put you in charge, Miss High and Mighty?" Vala asked.

Marla's eyes sparked fire over her shoulder at Vala. "The United States Air Force," she snapped. "I'm one of three colonels currently in this base, making me a ranking military officer. And of those three, I'm the only one even attempting to deal with this predicament." Her jaw set as she gazed harshly over her shoulder at everyone in the room. "If any of you have a problem with that, then I suggest you get out, and you get out right now."

No one so much as flinched.

"That's what I thought." She turned her head to gaze at the Gate again, attempting—and succeeding—to project a false air of coolness. Inside, she was worried that her rash behavior might have affected everyone's respect for her. She took in a deep breath, keeping the mask of indifference firmly on her face. "Sergeant?"

"The base is locked down, ma'am," Harriman responded.

"Goo—" Marla began when the sight below in the Gateroom cut her off.

The metal iris slowly wound open, and she stared at it wide-eyed for a moment before her head whipped around.

"Harriman!"

The tech was also staring, wide-eyed at the Stargate, his mouth slightly agape. He turned to Marla with his expression still quite shocked. "I didn't do it!" he insisted.

Marla's glare traveled to the other techs, but they all shook their heads.

"Try and close it!" she ordered. Switching to the intercom, she instructed the Gateroom security team to stand ready. And to shoot anything at all that came through the event horizon.

"Ma'am, we can't close the iris," Carter spoke up. "None of the Gate controls are responding at all."

"Okay." Marla sighed inwardly. "I think our problem just got—"

The electricity unexplainably blinked off around them.

"—worse."

Emerald eyes quickly scanned across the room, noting that every computer screen had gone blank, to everyone's great alarm. And, to Marla's personal fright, the only light came from the rippling blue surface of the wormhole. After sighing, the techs glanced up to the Stargate, and all grimaced.

Well, now they knew pulling the plug wasn't going to work.

"Much worse," Marla corrected herself.

"Back-up power should kick in soon, right?" Daniel asked. Immediately after the words left his mouth, the dim emergency lights came on, followed by the computers. "Well, I guess that answers my question."

"Harriman, put the base on full alert—no details—and get Siler down here to check out the power," Marla immediately ordered as the computer screens began refilling with data. "On second thought, hold up on the call. Wait until after the Gate shuts down, then get Siler down here. And Carter, make sure nothing's still coming through."

"Yes, ma'am," both answered, setting about their assignments.

Marla glanced down at her watch again. "Twenty-seven minutes," she announced. "Time leaks away."

"Attention!" Harriman's voice echoed throughout the base. "We have a situation." He went on with the announcement of high alert, but.

After a moment, Carter spoke up. "Colonel Jameson? Something _is_ coming through now."

Marla immediately frowned. "What is it?"

"It looks like some form of energy," Carter answered. "Just pure energy. Very small amount, though. If we weren't putting things under such tight scrutiny now, we would have missed it completely."

"Thank God for small favors," Marla muttered absently. Coming to stand behind Carter, Marla looked over the lieutenant colonel's shoulder at the computer screen. "It's not doing anything, is it?"

"Not that we can detect, ma'am," Carter replied.

Head cocking to the side, Marla raised an eyebrow. "Odd."

"Yes, ma'am it is," the astrophysicist agreed. "But it might just be some form of malfunction in the Gate itself due to the stress it's currently under."

"Keep an eye on it just the same," Marla ordered before turning to walk back to her previous position near the window of security glass. She felt a strong, gnawing premonition forming in her gut as she stared at the customary blue surface of the wormhole below. An unexplained impulse pressed her to say, "Harriman, page SG-6. I want them down here too."

For a moment, the sergeant just stared at her. "Ma'am?" he inquired, as if asking, "Are you sure?"

"Do it, Sergeant," she ordered firmly. "Call Colonel Skinner, Lieutenant Oliander, and Doctor Thrace to the control room, on the double. I want them down here as quickly as possible."

The tech nodded just as firmly as his commanding officer had spoken. "Yes, ma'am," he said. His voice then rang out on the base-wide speakers. "Colonel Skinner, Lieutenant Oliander, and Doctor Thrace to the control room as quickly as possible. Colonel Skinner, Lieutenant Oliander, and Doctor Thrace to the control room."

Closing her eyes and sighing deeply, Marla turned her back to the Gate. When she opened them, she was looking back into a little corner of the control room where an occupied wheelchair was parked, out of the way. In it, Vala sat quietly, good hand folded over the casted one in her lap. She almost immediately noticed Marla looking at her, and locked gazes with her.

Silently, Marla moved to Vala's side, and crouched down beside her.

"Marla, do you think something big is going to happen?" Vala asked quietly.

She hesitated, feeling some strange need to lie to soften the experience for her friend. After that moment of uncertainty, she decided to hedge around the issue. "Well, something's always happening here," she said. "Nothing ever seems to run smoothly, no matter how much we all want it to. We've all gotten used to it, though."

"You didn't answer my question," Vala said flatly.

_No, I didn't. _Again, the colonel hesitated before answering. This time, though, she decided on the truth. "Yes, I do think something's going to happen," she murmured quietly. "I have a gut feeling about it."

"Well, then," Vala said, with a light sigh. "I wonder—"

"Colonel Jameson!" Carter's voice interrupted. "We have something. A radio signal is coming through the wormhole now."

Marla was back to her feet and across the room in seconds. "Well, let's hear it then."

"Patching it through…" Carter said, tapping the keys again.

Seconds later, a familiarly toned voice rang out from the speakers around the control room. "Those that dare oppose the Ori will be punished with death," the Prior's voice flatly intoned. "And those that defy them have their days numbered. Their insolence will not be endured. Those called Colonel Marla Jameson and Vala Mal Doran shall soon feel the depth of the Ori's wrath, and their lives shall end on this day."

Everyone sat silently after the Prior's short speech finished. Marla was frozen with fear, despite everything in her yelling not to be frightened. Her eyes were wide and she had to force herself to breath.

"End radio signal," Carter announced quietly.

Every ounce of strength came rushing back to Marla then, and she gave a determined grunt. Let the Prior come. She would fight him with her bare hands if need be. Well, bare _hand_ and cast.

Even so determined, she knew that the Ori were a foe that they were continually underestimating, and she didn't intend to do so again.

"Harriman, give the evacuation order for levels twenty-eight through twenty-three," she determinedly ordered. "I want _everyone_ out of here but those of us in this room and the team in the Gateroom." She checked her watch, and noted that thirty-one minutes had elapsed since the wormhole first opened. "They all have five minutes to clear out, and then you're going to start closing blast doors. Seal this area like an airlock. No one's coming in, and nothing's getting out."

Harriman nodded firmly, though Marla thought she read fear in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

The cold emerald eyes that were such a deep part of her reputation traveled around the room, landing shortly on the face of every tech. "Anyone who wants to leave needs to do so _now_. In five minutes, you'll all have no choice."

For a moment, the room was frozen and not one person dared even flinch under the colonel's intense gaze. Then, slowly as common sense likely grabbed a hold of him and banished his fear of his commanding officer, one young tech stood, removed his headset, and walked away. Marla half expected for everyone to stand and follow, but no one else so much as flinched.

She nodded firmly. "Good. Now give the evacuation order."

She turned as Harriman began announcing the evacuation, and to her great surprise, saw that Daniel and Vala remained.

"Should you two really stay here?" Marla asked.

Vala's jaw set determinedly. "The Prior spoke my name right beside yours. I have just as much right to be here as you do."

One auburn eyebrow arched. "I'm not in a wheelchair."

"No," Vala conceded, "but you _are_ in a cast."

"Touché," Marla murmured, tipping her head slightly as she accepted the point. She considered mentioning that Vala wasn't the one in command here, but decided not even that fact would not sway the dark-haired thief. Instead, she turned to Daniel. "Jackson?"

He too, stood firm. "Wherever Vala goes, I go."

Marla knew what he meant, but still arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, he's like an obedient little puppy," Vala quipped, grinning. "Following me _everywhere_ I go."

"Hey!" Daniel protested, glaring at Vala. "I am definitely _not_ your puppy. And I do not willingly follow you _everywhere_."

Unable to resist, Marla muttered, "Shut-up, Jackson. You know you do."

"I do _not_!" Daniel strongly disagreed. "The only reason I—"

"Colonel Jameson?" Sergeant Harriman interrupted. "What about SG-6, ma'am? Should they evacuate too, or should they still come down here?"

Marla considered it for only a moment. "I want them here. But tell them to go to the armory first. I want them here _fully_ armed." To herself, she quietly added, "Not that it'll help us any."

Harriman gave a short nod and relayed the order. While he did, everyone else was still, and after he quieted, the room was completely silent. The room was so noiseless, one could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

Finally, Harriman announced, "Evacuation complete. Excluding the people in this room, and SG-6 in the armory, levels twenty-eight through twenty-three are empty."

"Good. Begin closing and locking _all_ blast doors," she ordered. "Start by sealing level twenty-three off, then slowly work down towards the Gateroom. And, of course, leave a path from the armory back here open. And one of the Gateroom blast doors too," she added, glancing down to the security team still standing ready.

_Thank God they're so steady_, Marla thought, making an uncharacteristic mental note to thank them later.

Announcing the numbers as he went, Harriman slowly sealed off levels twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, and twenty-seven.

"Sealing sub-level twenty-eight," he announced finally.

Marla checked her watch once more. "And not a moment too soon. Thirty-seven minutes, and counting. Almost at the moment of truth."

"So this is it," Vala murmured.

"This is it," everyone agreed in unison.

Moving back to her position by the window and assuming her rigid stance, Marla nodded curtly. "This is it."

The very moment the words left her mouth, the electricity once again shut down around them. This time though, the emergency power was what shut down, leaving them nothing at all to fall back on. The Stargate, as before, remained open and shimmering.

"That was _not_ a coincidence," she urgently observed. Alarmed, she quickly ordered the security team in the Gateroom to move into the next room so that they might be shielded by at least one blast door.

"Ma'am, with no power, I can't remotely lock down the rest of the blast-doors," Harriman said urgently.

"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious," Marla snapped sarcastically, "I never would—"

In front of them, the blue wormhole surface began rippling harsher, and below, even the security team stopped to turn around and stare. Every eye was fixed on the Stargate everyone just waiting for it to produce a Prior. But then the color of the event horizon abruptly changed from a bright, medium-toned blue to a light, almost white one, as it usually did right before closing. A cheer started in everyone's throats.

Everyone but Marla's.

Only by the feeling burning deep in her gut did she know this was not what they were all hoping for.

A desperate shriek left her mouth instead of an excited cheer of victory. "Everyone, DOWN!" she thundered.

Below, instead of shrinking as the wormhole closed, the bright circle inside the Stargate's rim grew rapidly outward, expanding at an unnaturally fast rate until it completely filled the Gateroom with its mass. Every inch of the wide room was covered by the bright glow and every wall was scorched as it spewed forth.

Marla turned and threw herself to the floor just as the wide glass window blew inwards.

* * *

**Gah! The dreaded cliffhanger!**


	15. Emergency

**OMG, I am so sorry it's taken so long to resolve this cliffhanger, but first my life got really busy and I had no time at all to write, and then I was on restriction for like 3 weeks... GAH! Horrible.**

**Anyway, here it is!**

**----------- **

**Emergency**

The sound alone was completely horrible. A low whine started somewhere when the energy swirl first sprang out from the Gate, but as it impacted against walls and worked its way across the Gateroom, it began developing more towards a rumble.

But the moment it touched the window, it was a full-blown BOOM.

At Jameson's shout, Daniel flung himself towards the floor, reflexively covering his head and neck with his arms. But the minute he struck the ground, he realized that Vala's wheelchair, two feet away, was not out of the path of the debris soaring towards them. Rocking back and forth, Vala was trying viciously to tip her chair over so it might shield her, but was having no luck. The seconds seemed to draw out to minutes as Daniel stretched himself out as far as he could, and pushed as hard as he could against the wheelchair.

It wobbled, but he gave a sharp shove and it began to fall.

Shards of the thick security glass flew across the room in every direction, ripping through anything stood in its path.

But with his arms outstretched to push the wheelchair, Daniel's head and neck were no longer covered or protected. He felt sharp, burning line of pain across the back of his neck as the point of a glass shard cut through the skin there. He didn't even have the pained shout out of his mouth before another one tore across his right forearm and then his left, followed by one that skimmed across his back.

His eyes closed against the pain, as the one in his back stopped to embed itself in his shoulder.

They abruptly flew open again at the familiar, blood-curdling shriek from beside him. In that instant after hearing the sound and before he registered what it was he saw before him, the memories flooded his mind.

Her charred body leaning against his, still warm in his arms. The tears that he wouldn't allow to fall.

Her blood seeping through her clothes and his, onto his skin. Her coughing in his ear as she tried to choke out her last words.

But after that moment of absolute terror and panic passed, he finally saw what it was he'd been staring at. Three pieces of glass had punctured the back of Vala's wheelchair and had stuck themselves into her side.

Not even taking the time to notice whether or not the glass had stopped raining down, or if the swirl of energy had stopped, Daniel was on his feet and standing over Vala. He would _not_ let her die again.

Laying on the floor behind her chair, body still halfway curled in a sitting-like position, Vala's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and her breathing was a tad erratic. Hair had fallen across her face and Daniel reached down to push it back.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Daniel, I'm just _fantastic_!" Vala snapped. "No, of course not! Look at me! I've got glass sticking out of my side! How do you think I am!"

"Stupid question," Daniel muttered to himself. He changed position so he could survey the rest of Vala's position. "Well, other than _that _glass, are you fine? No glass elsewhere?"

"No glass elsewhere," she tautly affirmed. Then she looked up at Daniel's face, and he saw that her eyes blazed with anger. "The pieces still sticking out of my side are enough for me! Could you get them out! Like _NOW_?"

"I'm probably not the best person to do that," Daniel replied. He turned, looking over the rest of the group.

On the far side of the room, Jameson, Sam, and Harriman were curled under the control console. The sergeant was completely covered by the jutting control board, but both women were only partially protected. As they slowly uncurled, Daniel saw that a haphazard rows of long glass shards protruded from Jameson's back and arms (some looked deeply lodged in her cast), and Sam's legs. The colonel appeared mostly unaffected as she slowly stood, only hissing lightly in pain, but when Sam sat up, she gasped and wrapped her hands around one thigh.

Apparently not noticing, Jameson just turned to look down at the Gateroom.

"Still on, but calm," she announced.

Daniel's eyes continued to sweep around the room and settled on the last occupant: a tech laying flat on the ground, unmoving, a particularly long and nasty-looking piece of glass protruding from the center of his back. Harriman scrambled to his feet, and was by the fallen man's side quicker than Daniel would have thought possible. The sergeant opened his mouth to speak the man's name, but he was cut off by Jameson's flat voice.

"Leave him. He's dead."

Throwing a disbelieving glance over his shoulder at the colonel, Harriman reached down and checked the man's pulse. He looked back up to Jameson and nodded.

Drawing a long pocketknife from out, the colonel flipped it open and pressed along the line of glass shards, cutting it open as though it were nothing as she began to give orders. "I don't like staying here unguarded," she said. "We're moving down to the armory. Now."

"Um, hello, Marla? GLASS!" Vala yelled, pointing a finger at the shards in her side.

"We can play doctor once we're safely locked in the armory," Jameson replied. "The cuts are probably going to bleed very badly when the glass is removed, and we have nothing to clot it with here. We'll pick up one of the emergency med packs on the way." She closed her knife and pushed on her cast until it split along the cut she'd created, then pulled it off. She flexed her hand momentarily, then used it to draw out a pistol from a concealed holster just above her waist. "Jackson, get Vala back up in her wheelchair," she ordered. Her eyes flicked to Sam. "Carter, can you walk?"

Sam pulled herself up using the control panel, and abruptly fell back against it. "That would be a _no_," she said through gritted teeth.

Jameson nodded towards Daniel. "After you get Vala upright, then come help Carter. Harriman, you push the wheelchair.

Daniel nodded, and carefully sat Vala's wheelchair upright from where he'd tipped it over moments earlier. He held one hand against Vala so she wasn't harmed any further, and when he had the chair sitting upright, he noticed that she was staring at it. Blushing, he turned and coincidentally gave Vala a good look at his scraped back, and the shard of glass firmly lodged in his shoulder.

"Daniel, you have glass in your shoulder!" she said. "You shouldn't be supporting Sam."

Before Daniel could say anything, Jameson cut in. "I don't think Harriman can, so Jackson has to."

"Why can't you?" Vala snapped back.

Jameson's eyes narrowed, and Daniel suddenly wished that Vala had just kept her mouth shut for once.

"Reason one, Empress Mal Doran," she bit out as she turned around. "There's far more glass in _my_ back and shoulders than there is in Jackson's." Vala's eyes did widen at the sight of the pointed shards protruding from the colonel's torn shirt, but quickly returned to normal size as Jameson turned again. "Reason two, I'm going to follow along behind and try and close the blast doors as best I can. Reason three, I'm in charge and you all do what I say."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"Good," Jameson said. "Now, let's move."

-----

Twenty minutes later, the injured group was limping down the last stretch of hallway towards their destination, their way lit by only a small emergency flashlight. Closing the last blast door before the armory, Jameson raised a hand for the rest of the group to wait against one wall quietly. Which they did.

The handgun she'd been carrying this entire time switched hands, and the colonel held it ready in her left hand.

She passed the rest of the group, heading towards the bend in the hallway that led to the armory and keeping very close to the wall. Finally reaching the corner, she began to poke her head around it, but apparently decided against it.

"Skinner?" she called. "You in there?"

After a tense moment, a question instead of a reply drifted out in a sharp feminine tone. "Is that you, Colonel Jameson?"

"It's me, Skinner," the colonel responded, relief obvious in her voice. "And because I know what position you're in, lower your guns and come help us. We're all—" She paused and threw a glance over her shoulder at Harriman. "—_almost _all," she corrected herself, "injured. Pretty badly too."

"Yes, ma'am," came the joint reply from Skinner, Oliander and Thrace as Daniel heard the sound of boots connecting with the floor and gun safeties being clicked on.

Thrace added, "We heard the explosion all the way down here, Colonel, and suspected the worst."

A moment later, the new SG-6 appeared around the corner, and immediately set to helping. Skinner and Oliander came to support Sam, relieving Daniel. Thrace took the emergency med-kit from Vala's lap, and carefully carried it as the group rounded the corner.

"I assume you closed all the blast doors on your way down?" Jameson asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Skinner answered promptly. "We managed to lock them all before the power went out too."

"Good."

Finally, the rag-tag group entered the relative safety of the armory.

A row of crates had been stacked up like a barricade about ten feet into the room, and Daniel didn't doubt that as Jameson had said, SG-6 had been sitting there, guns raised towards the doorway. They were definitely—whether she would admit it or not—Jameson's team. Behind the barrier, several emergency lights were set up so that the room was only dim, instead of completely dark.

"Now then," Vala said, as Harriman put her wheelchair by a wall behind the barricade, "who's going to 'play doctor' and get this blasted glass out of me?"

"Oliander had medical training," Jameson spoke up. She gave the man a pointed look. "Lieutenant, you've got your work cut out for you. And, if I might, I have a suggestion for the order in which you deal with your patients: Carter, Vala, then Jackson."

Oliander nodded, then frowned as he realized Jameson hadn't mentioned herself. "Ma'am? What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, Oliander," Jameson responded, turning around. "Just deal with them."

The lieutenant gave another firm nod. "Yes ma'am." Still halfway supporting Sam, Oliander lead her back to a corner behind the barricade where crates had been cleared away from a five-foot wide area. Slowly, he and Skinner lowered the lieutenant colonel down onto the floor in a halfway-sitting position, so that her back was propped against a crate.

Sam hissed with the pain, and Oliander whispered something to her that Daniel couldn't hear.

Thrace brought over the medical kit, and Oliander opened it. Daniel turned away, unable to watch. And it happened that as he turned, his eyes landed on Jameson, standing in an opposite corner of the room.

She had carefully worked her bloody BDU jacket off of her injured arms, and slowly slipped it off of her shoulders, letting it puddle on the floor behind her. This left her wearing a black undershirt that left her muscular arms completely bare. She turned slightly as she began plucking glass shards out of her left forearm and Daniel noticed tattoos across both of her upper arms.

"Don't stare," she said without looking up, startling Daniel. "It's rude. And because I know you're wondering, I've had them for twenty something years. Since my college days."

He pretended not to know what she was talking about, and cleared his throat. "Ja—Marla," he quickly corrected himself, "should you really be doing that yourself? And with a not-completely healed hand?"

She raised an eyebrow, most likely at the use of her first name. "I'm fine, _Daniel_. My wounds are none of your concern." Practically contorting her arm, she reached around to her own shoulders and began pulling out the lengthy shards there. She gave a soft grunt of pain as she yanked the first one out, causing the cut to slowly leak a trickle of blood down the back of her shirt.

"Well, you can't very well be our great leader if you're very injured," Daniel retorted.

"I'll be fine," Jameson repeated. "I was going to get the cast off tomorrow anyways. And the glass," she pulled another piece out with a sharper grunt than before, "has to come out anyway." She yanked the final piece of glass from her back, and turned to stare flatly at Daniel.

He opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly lost his nerve. His eyes dropped from Jameson down to the floor.

Jameson raised an eyebrow. "If you have something to say, Jackson, say it."

After a momentary struggle, he looked back up and met Jameson's emerald stare. "You don't have to do this," he said quietly.

The colonel's eyes narrowed. "I don't have to do_ what_, Jackson?"

"This whole tough routine," he answered immediately. "You act like you're Superman or something. I know you want to prove that you're still capable of doing things after your injuries and everything, but you don't have to. Nobody thinks any less of you for what happened when you were rescuing Vala, Marla."

She looked startled by his words, and quickly turned away. "You don't understand, Jackson."

He carefully laid a hand on her shoulder. "I understand more than you know." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I know what you lost, Marla. I know how you feel."

She shrugged his hand off, and barely glanced at him over her shoulder. "You don't _understand_," she repeated. "This has nothing to do with that."

"It—" Daniel started.

"Doctor Jackson," Oliander interrupted. "I can treat you now."

Daniel was tempted to say, "Just a minute," and continue his conversation with Marla, but when he looked to her, the look in her eyes told him not to. She was practically begging him to just leave her alone.

He remembered going through the same thing, when friends' comfort just never seemed to be enough.

So he did what Jameson wanted, and turned and walked away. Sitting down by Oliander, Daniel grunted in pain as the lieutenant pulled the torn clothing away from Daniel's shoulder. Then, unexpectedly, he poured something cold and stinging over Daniel's scratched back.

He immediately leapt back to his feet.

"OW!" he and Vala yelled simultaneously.

He threw a look at her only to notice that she was rubbing her good hand against her back in the same places where his hurt. Right. The bond.

"Doctor Jackson?" Oliander inquired.

Settling back down, Daniel opened his mouth to say something in reply, but was cut off.

"Do not think you are safe," a familiarly flat-toned voice said from nowhere in particular. "You cannot run, and you cannot hide, Marla Jameson. Do not cower like a child. Meet your fate."

Every eye turned to the woman addressed. She stood stiff and still, staring out towards the pair of doors that stood between them and the Gateroom, where the Prior was probably waiting for her. Then, quickly, she pivoted and found a box labeled C4.

"What are you doing!" Vala was the first to exclaim.

Jameson glanced over her shoulder very briefly at Vala as she opened the box and removed several of the explosive charges. "Going to meet my doom, most likely," she answered flatly.

Skinner immediately leapt to her feet and moved to help her CO without argument. She took all but a couple of the explosives from Jameson, and began attaching them to the first blast door.

"Marla… why?" Vala asked.

Jameson gave no answer as she made her way back across the room to stand with the rest of them behind the barricade, shoving the two remaining C4 charges into her pockets. Meanwhile, Skinner attached the C4 in a straight line across the edges of the door that separated them from the embarkation room. After setting it, she too hurried to stand beside the barricade.

A tense moment later, there was a loud bang and the heavy door clanged to the floor.

Skinner, Oliander and Thrace started to rise, but Jameson gestured for them to remain.

"I'm going alone," she said firmly.

"Ma'am!" Thrace protested.

"You three need to stay here and protect them," she responded, gesturing at the injured ones. Removing it from her concealed holster, Marla offered her handgun to Thrace. The scientist begrudgingly traded her his P-90 for it. Standing, Jameson clicked the safety off. "And when I said stay here, it was an order."

With that, she turned and ran around the barricade, over the fallen blast door and out of sight.

_You can't order me._

Before Daniel could even wonder where the thought had come from, Vala took off after Jameson. Reflexively, he bolted to his feet and ran after her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how in the world Vala could push herself so fast with only one arm.

As he rounded the barricade, he saw through the open doorway into the next room. Several scorched bodies littered the floor near the other open doorway, burned beyond recognition.

The Gateroom security team.

His foot caught on something, and as he fell towards the floor, Daniel realized that it wasn't the floor at all, but the fallen blast door.

Time seemed to slow as he saw that beyond the other doorway, a Prior stood at the bottom of the Gate's ramp, the tip of his staff glowing brightly. Marla's P-90 was already trained on him, even though it would do her no good. And Vala furiously wheeled herself through the doorway and out towards the standoff. And inexplicably, the blast door began to slide closed between her and Daniel.

"NO!" Daniel yelled.

Then his legs connected solidly with the cold, unrelenting metal and all he could think of was the pain. The rest of his body likewise struck the metal and the pain rapidly spread. Finally, his head fell to it with a thud, and his world went dark.

---------------------------

**I know! Another cliffie! I'll run and hide before you all throw rotten fruit and veggies at me!**


	16. Energy

**OMG, I am so sorry! I didn't notice until right this moment that it'd been 2 weeks since I last updated! I left y'all hangin for way too long!**

**Well, you won't have to put up with that for too much longer. There should only be 2 more chapters to this story! But don't worry, I'm planning a sequel... Which will actually be set in Atlantis, not the SGC.**

**Anyway, on to the chapter. **

**-------------------------------------------------------------------- **

**Energy**

Despite the barely clotting scratches along her forearms, Marla held her P-90 firmly aimed at the Prior on the Gate's ramp. She noted briefly that the Stargate was no longer open, and found some small measure of relief in that fact. She kept her gaze firm even when Prior's pasty face turned towards her and his frightening milky eyes stared at her. She would not waver, she would not back down. If this cost her life, then so be it. But she would not go down without a fight.

Marla opened her mouth to say something to the Prior, but was interrupted by the familiar squeak of a wheelchair. Instantly, she whirled towards the sound, but still kept her gun on the Prior.

"VALA!" she erupted.

Vala stopped almost immediately. "You're not facing this alone," she said.

Marla's eyes flicked towards the blast door sliding closed between them and the others, and then over her shoulder towards the Prior who was causing it. And then, her eyes moved back to Vala.

"Well, then what about Daniel?" she said very sharply.

Realization dawned on Vala's face, and she slowly opened her mouth. But before any sound escaped it, her eyes rolled back and then closed as she fell unconscious. Her body slowly began to slump forward, though the restraints on her wheelchair kept her from falling out.

Marla swore viciously under her breath, and quickly turned back towards the enemy. She slowly sidestepped so that she was planted squarely between Vala and the Prior. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she found it amusing that she now had to defend Vala with her life for a second time.

_Vala, you so owe me_, she thought.

"Your defense is futile, Marla Jameson," the man said flatly. "You and Vala Mal Doran will fall to the Ori this day for your insolence. You cannot escape your fate."

"_That_ is where I will _have_ to disagree," she snapped back.

The Prior's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he said, "Very well." The tip of his staff began to glow and he lifted it into the air. Instantly Marla tensed and her finger hovered over the trigger on her gun as the Prior began making small circular motions with the end of the staff.

She had no idea what he was doing until she felt a sharp gust of air hit her from behind. Barely managing to stay on her feet, Marla pulled the trigger and let a couple of bullets fly in the Prior's direction.

They never reached him, and were instead swept around and past him by the wind to land against the far wall.

The wind hit Marla again from behind, but this time did not fall away after a few seconds. Instead, it was continuous. And then, as she slowly fell to her knees, Marla realized that the Prior was creating a tornado—or rather a swirling whirlpool in the air—with himself at its very center. There was a scraping noise behind her, and Marla struggled to turn enough to see in that direction. And she saw that the noise was caused by Vala's wheelchair as the strong winds easily tipped it over.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Marla thought the restraints holding Vala to the chair were a great thing. Without them, Vala's limp body would surely have been tossed around, but with the extra weight of the wheelchair, she was fairly safe.

Then the wind grew stronger and Marla could think of nothing but standing her ground. She bit curses under her breath and then gritted her teeth as she strained to keep herself from blowing away with the wind. She knew that she would have to stop this Prior fast—_very_ fast—if defenseless Vala—and Daniel to whom she was bound—was to have any chance of surviving this attack.

Automatically correcting for the wind's pull, Marla pressed her finger hard against her P-90's trigger and let loose a volley of bullets.

She half-expected them to all strike and crumple against some invisible barrier the Prior had raised, as many had done before. Well, that was if they didn't all blow away with the wind anyway, but they didn't. The majority of them still curved around, but a couple found their way into their target: the Prior's mid-section. Three small trickles of milky blood leaked down his robe, and Marla grinned inwardly at the small triumph.

But then the wind rushing past her became suddenly and inexplicably hot. Not quite hot enough to burn, but definitely enough to put her in pain.

And she knew that now was the moment.

But as she reached towards the pocket where she had hidden the C4 charges, something she had never expected to see again appeared before her eyes, freezing her instantly.

In the midst of the swirling wind, just in front of the Prior stood the one man for whom she was willing to do anything. From the unruly dark hair to the smiling dark eyes, his face was just as she remembered it. From the familiar uniform with the SG-6 patch sewn onto the sleeve to the scuffed combat boots, he was just as she remembered him.

"Chris," she breathed, taking a step towards him.

She felt lightheaded, and was dangerously close to flying away with the wind as every feeling that she had held inside since the Ori fortress came bursting out. Tears blurred her vision of the man who was slowly walking towards her, and her voice broke as she repeated his name over and over again. Finally, he was close enough and her hand slowly reached out to touch him…

"Will you surrender, Marla Jameson?" the Prior's voice said.

Unconsciously, the word yes started to form on her lips.

But before the word came completely out of her mouth, reality coldly gripped her, and her sense returned. This _couldn't_ be real. Christopher Grouper was dead. She had watched him die with her own eyes.

This had to be either a hallucination, or some sort of trick by the Prior.

And, as her fingertips passed through Chris instead of brushing against him, she knew it was true.

Tears still filled her eyes as the hallucination of Chris disappeared, and she looked up with anger towards the Prior. Her heart closed off, and in her mind she knew that it was truly now, or never. Thus, resolved, she let herself be carried into the swirl of the wind as she reached deep into her pocket for the pair of C4 charges. Her hand wrapped tightly around them, and she pulled them out quickly. She armed them, and as the wind carried her past the Prior and towards the wall, she hurled them towards him.

She honestly didn't expect the plan to work, but all she could do was hope it would.

She quickly passed the Prior and the pair of charges.

_I hope I make it to heaven_, she thought as she braced herself for the pain she thought she would have to experience before she died.

Behind her, the charges detonated and she felt the heat on her back as she was rapidly thrown against the wall of the room. Every inch of her struck metal and pain spread throughout her from head to foot before she fell away into unthinking darkness.

**----------------------------------------------**

**OMG, another cliffie? I'm dead, aren't I? **


	17. Expression

**Oh, good God in heaven help me... I know, you probably all hate me now because I waited almost a month to post this... Truth is, I started back to school before I realized it, and had more work than I planned for, so I got swamped. Then I was out of town for a week, then the wording for this chapter seemed impossible...**

**But it's finally here! Yay!**

**I wrote and re-wrote scenes of this chapter, but somehow, it always managed to come out a bit on the sappy side, so I'm sorry for that.**

**Also, with the addition of this chapter, this story has now passed the 35,000 word mark! Hooray!**

* * *

**  
**

**Expression**

Vala awoke again to the sounds of the infirmary, and with a faint headache throbbing on a spot far up and on the left side of her forehead. She sighed contentedly and pressed her head firmly into her pillow before she remembered what had gone on before she passed out. As the image of Marla standing against the Prior flashed through her mind in every bit of its glory, her eyes flew wide open and she sat bolt upright.

Doctor Lam was almost immediately at her side, coming over from where she had apparently been writing down some information in a file.

"_Where_ is Marla?" Vala demanded forcefully. Without waiting for the doctor to answer, Vala's eyes scanned the infirmary, and other than Daniel beside her, none of the other beds she could see were occupied. Her heart sank. She instantly buried her face in her hands, fearing the worst. "Oh, God," she breathed. "It's my fault."

"Vala!" Lam snapped, grabbing her hands and pulling them away from her face. "Colonel Jameson is _fine_. She's simply been moved into one of the quarantine rooms down the hall so she rest peacefully. She deserves it."

Giving a greatly relieved sigh, Vala murmured, "Yes. Yes, she does." She looked briefly over at Daniel—who, she noted, had a rather large, bruised bump on his forehead—then back to Doctor Lam. "Can I go and see her?"

"Well, you'll have to wait for Doctor Jackson to wake up," the physician replied, likewise glancing at the unconscious archeologist. "And you'll also have to wait for Colonel Jameson. She hasn't woken up yet."

"Woken up?" Vala asked.

Lam nodded. "SG-6 apparently found her unconscious, laying against the wall of the Gateroom. Lieutenant Oliander said it appeared as though she struck the wall and was knocked unconscious that way, not by the Prior."

"Oh. Well that's… good. How long ago…?"

The doctor glanced briefly at her watch. "You've all been out about two hours."

"And Marla hasn't woken up yet?" Vala asked worriedly.

Biting her lip slightly, Lam nodded. "I gave her a mild sedative to help her rest. I don't think she's been sleeping very well for the past couple of weeks, then coupled with this entire ordeal… She really just needs some down time. She should only be out for another hour or so, though. The general is very eager to debrief her on what went on in that Gateroom."

"I'll bet," Vala murmured. To herself, she mentally added, _I'd like to know myself._ It figured that she had to pass out right in the middle of things, and then wake up not knowing what had happened.

From the infirmary bed beside hers, there was a faint groan and she turned to see Daniel slowly waking. He wriggled around a moment before slowly opening his eyes. One of his hands drifted up to where the knot had formed on his forehead. His fingers brushed across it and he muttered a sharp, "Owww." Then, slowly he turned to face her.

When he did, Vala offered a light smile. Daniel returned it.

"Y'know, this bump on my head is your fault," he said after a moment.

She tilted her head to one side. "Funny, I don't remember that."

"Well, I fell down and hit my head chasing after _you_," he responded.

"And I'm paying for it right now," she said. She rubbed at the throbbing spot on her forehead and made a face as though she were in deep pain. "I can feel your headache, Daniel."

"Well, that's not my fault," he responded.

Vala was extremely tempted to tell Daniel that it was indeed his fault, since he was the one who touched that pillar on P32-1161, and re-awakened the bond. But she decided that it was probably better to just bite her tongue. Why spark any more argument than there already was.

So for a moment, Daniel and Vala just sat there in silence.

Finally, he said, "So... We're…?"

She knew what he was thinking though, and answered the question before he even finished it. "Yes. We're completely safe… Well, as far as I know, that is. Nobody's told me anything about what happened yet. But, yes, as far as I know, we're safe. Thanks to Marla."

"Where's…?" he started again.

Again, though, Vala interrupted his question with the answer. "She's resting in a room down the hall. Doctor Lam says she's fine."

Daniel smiled lightly. "But you want to go and see her anyway."

Nodding briefly, Vala's bottom lip jutted out in a perfect puppy-dog pout. "Please?" She knew that Daniel didn't want to give in to her, but that he would anyway. After all, didn't she more or less have him wrapped around her finger? And wasn't she a master manipulator?

Finally, Daniel sighed. "Fine. Let's go see Marla."

---

Twenty minutes later, the two of them sat quietly against the wall in the quarantine room, watching Marla across the room where she was sleeping soundly in an infirmary bed. Neither Daniel nor Vala had said anything in the five minutes they'd been sitting there, both blaming it on having nothing to say. Both actually had something to say. But neither knew how to say it. Finally, though, Vala worked up the courage and opened her mouth.

"Daniel, I'm sorry," she said quietly.

He frowned at her. "For what?"

She looked down, apparently finding something fascinating about the folded hands in her lap. "For running after Marla. It was very stupid, and I didn't realize what I was doing. I honestly didn't mean to put anyone else in danger. I just—"

"—wanted to help," he finished for her. He paused for a moment, then looked towards her, and gently turned her face towards him. "Don't apologize for that."

It was then that Daniel realized how close their faces were. He could faintly feel the whisper of her breath on his lips, and, as his eyes drifted closed, he couldn't deny that he wanted to move forward and kiss her. But Vala beat him to it, and their lips met in a slow kiss.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Daniel compared it to their first kiss on board the _Prometheus_, almost a year ago. This kiss was the exact opposite of the first one. Where as their first had been hurried and fairly sloppy, this one was slow and caring.

When finally they parted, Daniel whispered, "Y'know, I'd been waiting for this…"

"…for a long time," Vala finished for him.

From across the room, there came the distinct sound of someone loudly clearing their throat.

Instantly breaking apart, and separating by several inches, both Daniel and Vala's gazes turned to the woman lying on the bed, her face turned ever so slightly in their direction. Vala immediately grinned and opened her mouth, and Daniel could practically see the sexual comment forming on her lips, as well as hear it echoing in his head.

But before anything came from Vala's mouth, Marla firmly interrupted her. "I don't want to hear it," she said, an unmistakable hint of sorrow in her voice. "Please." Her eyes were begging with Vala. "Just… don't."

Using just her good arm, Vala pushed her wheelchair over to the bedside and took the colonel's hand in hers. Daniel was not only surprised at Vala's actions, but also that Marla didn't shake Vala's hand off, or pull her own away.

"What's wrong?" Vala asked softly.

Marla opened her mouth to reply once, probably to deny that anything was, in fact, wrong, but closed it again before she said anything. She hesitated for a lengthy moment, then sighed. "I saw him," she said, voice surprisingly on the verge of breaking. "Chris, that is. When I was fighting the Prior, he just appeared. Out of nowhere. And for a moment, I thought it was real."

A deep, caring frown creased Vala's face. "Let me guess. It tore your heart out when you realized it wasn't?"

Lip beginning to tremble, the colonel actually looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Daniel realized how hurt she really had to be. The appearance of the tough Colonel Jameson was quickly crumbling away as her real feelings came to the surface, and she took in a couple of shaking breaths. Her emerald eyes closed, and a thin line of tears appeared under both lash-lines. Both rolled down her cheeks before she managed to pull herself together enough to stop the waterworks.

"I…" she started quietly. Her voice broke, and she struggled to regain it for a moment. "I loved him," she finally said. "And I never told him."

"You would've lost your job," Daniel reminded her gently.

She didn't seem to hear him. "Six years and I never told him. He never knew."

Patting the colonel's hand reassuringly, Vala offered a light smile. "Marla, I'm sure he knew."

Jameson nodded briefly. "Yeah." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was obviously composing herself, and shoving the pain back into a dark corner of her mind. The firm mask of tough-all-over Marla Jameson slid quickly back into place, and she wiped away not only the tears from her eyes and face, but all indicators she'd even cried at all. "Look at me," she said, shaking her head as she moved to sit up more. "I'm pitiful."

"No," Daniel disagreed. "You're not. You have to let things like that out eventually. And the longer you wait, the worse it gets. And, Marla, you waited quite a while."

The colonel opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Doctor Lam entering the room. "Nice to see you're up, Colonel Jameson," she said with a smile. "Though a little earlier than I expected." She came around the bed, and took Marla's wrist in her hand, detaching the IV tube.

And Marla apparently noticed the IV for the first time. Her eyes traveled up to the bag of medications that had been traveling down the tube and into her bloodstream. She indicated it with a jerk of her head. "Lam, what's that?"

"Several nutrients," the doctor answered simply. Her eyes narrowed briefly at the colonel. "Vitamins, minerals… The sort of things you normally get in a healthy diet." She paused and raised an indicting eyebrow at her patient. "You were _severely_ malnourished. In fact, it's quite a miracle that you hadn't passed out before from overworking yourself." She folded her arms tightly over her chest. "So I guess you really hadn't been eating?"

"Not as well as I should have," Marla admitted. "But I'm over that. You don't have to worry about my eating habits anymore, Doctor."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," Marla assured with a nod.

"I'll _make sure_ she eats," Vala spoke up. When all eyes turned to her, she added, "Well, Marla won't be any fun if she kills herself, now will she?"

Marla raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather not find out."

"Well, Colonel Jameson, if you're up to it, you have another visitor," Doctor Lam said. "Actually, I think he's going to speak to you whether you feel up to it or not," she corrected herself. "He's been waiting since you were found unconscious two hours ago."

"Ah, the good general's dying to find out what happened with the Prior," Marla observed with a faint smile.

She nodded once, and the doctor walked out the door. A moment later, General Landry walked in the room in his daughter's place. Immediately, Jameson sat up straighter, and her hand came to her head in salute.

"At ease," Landry said, causing Marla to drop the salute. He offered a faint smile to Daniel and Vala, and said, "I know she just woke up, but could you two please step outside for a moment? I'd like to speak with Jameson alone for a few moments."

"Sure, General," Daniel said, grabbing a hold of the back of Vala's wheelchair and pushing her out. As they left, he thought he saw the General wink mischievously and very quickly. But, as he left the room with Vala, he wasn't sure one way or the other.

-----

Marla watched Daniel and Vala go, wondering why they were being sent out at all. Didn't they have a right to hear what had gone on after they both passed out? Finally, after the door closed, Marla turned her attention to General Landry. For a long moment, he said nothing, and Marla was wondering what took him so long.

"So, Marla, I'll bet you're wondering why I just did that," he finally said.

The colonel's eyes grew wider. _Did he just call me Marla? _she thought. Trying to cover her extreme surprise, she managed to get out, "Um… Yes, sir, I am."

The faintest shadow of a smirk quirked at the edges of General Landry's mouth, but he quickly tampered it out so that Marla was left wondering if she'd even seen it at all. "I wanted to be able to tell you this in private," he said. "Marla."

This time, Marla's eyes were positively huge. And she was absolutely astounded by the general's strange behavior. "_Sir_?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh, no need for such formalities," he responded.

She didn't think it possible for her eyes to go any wider, but they most definitely did. And she was beginning to feel more than a little afraid of what was making the general act this way… "Sir, what do you mean?" she tried again.

"Well, in my experience, formalities aren't generally used between generals that have known each other for any length of time…" Then the smile returned to his face.

At that moment, Marla's heart felt like it was about to burst, as did her eyes. For a moment, she couldn't find words, and her mouth soundlessly opened and closed. But when she finally regained her voice, she asked incredulously, "General? Sir, you're serious?"

"As a heart attack," he answered. "Congratulations, General Jameson."

Her face immediately broke into a grin. "General Jameson. I like the sound of that."

* * *

**OH, also, there will be one more wrapping up chapter after this, then it'll be done. Like I said, I plan to write a sequel, though not right away. Before I get to the sequel, I have a Dark Angel fic I want to write.**

** Anyway, please review! **


	18. Eagle

**So. It's finally here. Amazing, huh? It's finally coming to an end. Wow.**

**Thanks to everyone who's read it, both here, on the Daniel/Vala forum and on LiveJournal. Special thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Bigger thanks to those who have continuously reviewed. Even bigger thanks to anyone who's beta-ed it for me, and for people who have offered their ideas.**

**I hope you've enjoyed this story, and don't mind the sappiness of this chapter. :)**

* * *

**Eagle**

The door slowly opened before her, to a place both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The space beyond the doorway was one that she had most definitely visited in the past, but a good four months had elapsed between her last visit and her present one. She paused for a long moment, eyes raking over the room before her.

After a moment, Marla took a quick, decisive step into the apartment, closing the door very firmly behind her. She habitually hung her car keys on the key rack on the wall by the door and kicked her shoes off of her feet and onto a small shoe-rack.

Then she slowly made her way through the tiny apartment towards the single bedroom in the back, carrying her duffel bag. On the way, though, she paused at a thermostat to turn the air conditioner on for the first time in months. Upon reaching her bedroom, she flicked on the light switch and let her eyes take in the room's only slightly dusty furnishings.

Like the rest of the apartment—which consisted of a foyer, small living room and a kitchen—the room was very sparsely decorated. Everything was basic and essentially style-less. The walls were white, the carpet was cream-colored, the dresser was small and wooden, the mirror over the dresser was average, and the twin-sized bed was basic with plain black sheets and blankets. No other scrap of furniture occupied the space.

And, it hadn't struck her before, but this room was, in a word, her.

Clean. Sharp. Ordinary. Routine. By-the-book.

_Just like her_.

Attempting to shake off the strange feeling that thought brought, she hefted her black duffel bag onto the bed and unzipped it. She began systematically unpacking its contents, sorting them into neat piles and then putting them into the correct dresser drawers.

She had gone on two weeks' leave from her duties at the SGC the day before, and was actually expecting to receive a reassignment before time for her to return to the base. So her room—or, more accurately, _home_—on the base was more or less contained in the duffel bag she was unpacking.

_Reassignment_, she thought to herself.

Slowly, she looked up to her reflection in the mirror. She was still wearing her full, formal Air Force uniform. Her eyes fell almost immediately to the silver general's stars pinned on either shoulder, where, for years before, an eagle had represented her rank as colonel. Now as a general, she _felt _more like an eagle.

Then her eyes took in the two new medals pinned on the uniform, and her mind drifted…

----

_The words penetrated every raised barrier and sank into her heart._

"_Brigadier General Marla Jameson, you are hereby presented with the United States Air Force Silver Star medal for gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States of America."_

_She stood utterly rigid while the star was pinned to her uniform. She was welling with deep pride as another medal was placed beside the previous ones on her blue jacket, but not a bit of her feelings showed on her carefully trained face._

"_You are also hereby presented with the United States Air Force Cross Medal for extraordinary heroism in action against an enemy of these United States of America while engaged with the Stargate program. Congratulations, General."_

_But this time, as the medal was being pinned to her jacket, Marla's mask slipped for a short moment, and a sad smile broke through. That brief moment later, any form of expression again disappeared._

----

Her fingers brushed lightly across the brand new awards decorating her uniform, and then the shining stars on her shoulders. There was no doubt. They meant change for her, both in her career, and in her personally. Now when any Air Force officer saw her, and saw the ribbons, representing the earned medals, on her uniform, they'd know she'd done something "great" to earn them. And she'd have to live with them staring back at her, reminding her every time of what she'd had to do.

Of who she saw that day.

Turning away from the mirror, she shucked her dress jacket, laid it on the bed, and resumed packing. She tried to focus on the movements of taking the clothing out of her bag, and then placing it in the appropriate drawers. But when she came to the bottom of her bag, she couldn't any more.

Sitting in the very bottom of her duffel bag was a framed picture. The only one she'd ever kept.

The picture was of her team. Her _real _team.

She didn't even remember now what the photograph, but in it, Lieutenants Atkins and Gonzalez were kneeling down in front of Marla and Chris. And the SG-6 emblem was displayed in the center of the four teammates. Everybody was smiling. Even her.

And especially Chris. His grin almost literally went from ear to ear, as always.

Her fingers slowly drifted across his portion of the picture, and she let out a slight, whispering sigh. She was just waiting to break down again. Waiting for the tears to start flowing down her face, for the sobs to start racking her body again. But she waited for a few, long minutes and they never came.

No tears. No sobs. Just the same old sad feeling on the inside of her heart.

The twisting knife of grief and remorse was gone, replaced by an almost distant pang of melancholy sorrow.

_I'm getting over it_, she realized. _I'm starting to move on._

She let out a light sigh, and her mind drifted back to the brief ceremony she'd attended a few hours earlier in Chris's honor.

------

_She'd driven somewhere around three hours from the SGC to the tiny town in Kansas, just outside of Wichita, to be there for his funeral. It was the least she could do now. The minute she drove into the town, she was greeted by signs on every single shop door that announced they were closed. She frowned, but thought little of it until she came to the town square, and saw the amount of people gathered there._

_Rows of chairs had been set up across the grassy square, in front of a small stage with a podium set up. In front of the podium, the standard folded-flag memorial was proudly displayed._

_She found a place with some difficulty and parked her car. Getting out, she stood for a moment, smoothing her uniform. Then, taking a deep breath, she crossed the street and headed towards the rest of the people waiting for the ceremony to begin. Reaching the rows of chairs, she moved to the farthest back row, and sat in the very last chair._

_Closing her eyes, she breathed a deep sigh._

"_Colonel Jameson?"_

_Her eyes flew back open, and she looked towards the sound of the voice. She saw Chris's aging mother—whom she had met a before—standing there, a faint smile on her face. The same faint smile that Marla remembered from the last time she'd seen her, probably a year and a half ago._

"_Actually, Mrs. Grouper, it's General Jameson now," Marla replied._

"_Oh!" the old woman exclaimed, smiling widely. "Congratulations, General!" She glanced around, then frowned down at Marla. "Honey, is this where you're plannin' on sittin'?" she asked._

"_Yes, ma'am," Marla answered._

"_Why don't you sit up there with us?" Mrs. Grouper asked, pointing up towards the front rows. _

_Marla recognized several of Chris's relatives that she'd met before—such as his two sisters and his brother—standing and sitting there. She noted the small signs on the ends of those rows. "Uh, Mrs. Grouper, they're reserved for your family."_

_The old woman offered another smile, and Marla realized how much Mrs. Grouper reminded her of Chris when she did. "Honey, you're as much Christopher's family as anyone else over there is," she said. "I think he was about as close to and cared for you as much as his sisters and brother. You're family in my book. So come sit with the family."_

_A little self-consciously, Marla stood, and followed the short woman to the front-most row. Once there, she smiled faintly at Chris's sisters Erin and Cindy, who, to Marla's great surprise, both hugged her tightly. Then she went to shake their brother David's hand, but he too pulled her into a short hug._

"_We're glad you could be here," Cindy said. "Really."_

"_Yeah," Marla replied awkwardly. "I don't think I could miss Chris's funeral."_

_Erin hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Jameson, were you there when Chris… died?" She looked over Marla's face, and Marla got the feeling that she was looking at the freshly healed scars on it._

_For a moment, Marla didn't know what to say. The family, not being of a high enough security clearance, had probably only been told that Chris had been killed in action. And it was likely they assumed that meant she and Chris were in undercover in Iraq._

_Oh, boy, did they have it wrong._

_She looked down, and took in a deep breath. When she looked back up to Chris's family, she nodded tightly. "Yeah. I was there."_

"_Please…" Cindy started. "What were his last words?"_

_Marla hesitated for a moment. "He told me to tell you all that he loved you," she lied._

_All four of the Groupers just stared at her for a moment._

_Mrs. Grouper raised an eyebrow. "Honey, we all know that ain't what he said. Chris would never say that." She put a hand on Marla's shoulder, and raised her eyebrows. "Now, tell the truth. What'd he really say?"_

_Marla took a deep breath and opened her mouth. For a minute, the words caught in her throat and refused to come out. Then she forced them out. The family wanted to know. "He told me to go on," she said, eyes falling to the ground. "He told me to leave him and keep going."_

_Everyone was quiet for a minute, and Marla feared that the family would hate her now, knowing what she'd done._

"_If he told you to do it, then he must've meant it," David spoke up._

"_Don't be ashamed of what you did," Mrs. Grouper added. "There was probably nothing you could've done."_

_All Marla could do was nod shortly._

"_Oh, look," Mrs. Grouper remarked, "Brother Cavil's ready to start. C'mon, everybody sit down."_

_Marla obeyed, and found herself sitting between Mrs. Grouper and Cindy as the pastor began speaking. She expected his tone to be the usual, flat one that so many preachers seemed to use for sermons. She was quite surprised when what she thought was a droll intonation turned out to be a man speaking out of obvious care for Chris._

"_We've all suffered a loss," Brother Cavil said. "Christopher Shane Grouper was a great part of this community. He grew up here. And he brightened all of our days while doing so. Even after he enlisted in the Air Force, he came back as often as he could." He paused. "But Christopher died doing a great good. He was killed in action, defending his country. Nobly, I'm sure."_

_Marla smiled to herself at that._

-----

And she smiled to herself again.

Chris really had died doing something great. And the service given for him really honored and reflected that. He would have been proud, and so she was proud for him in his stead.

With a sigh, she set the picture atop her dresser.

She sat down on her bed, then just let herself fall backwards in a flop against the hard mattress. Her eyes slowly drifted closed. Yes, she really was healing over Chris. She was getting over all of her regret. She'd forgiven herself for not telling him. She'd forgiven herself for leaving him behind.

Finally, Marla Jameson was at peace with Chris Grouper's death, and with herself.

And, as she was moving on, so was her life. Soon, she'd be reassigned. She'd be leaving the SGC, and would probably be leaving the entire area. God only knew where she'd be moved to, but she was hoping that she'd be moved to Atlantis. If not right away, then hopefully sometime soon.

Reassignment also meant she got a fresh beginning somewhere else.

She could begin anew, without her cold reputation. Without expectations. In essence, she could change who she was for the better. Who knew, maybe this would even change her drastically.

She laughed to herself. That reminded her of something Vala had said yesterday...

----

"_Hey, you'll be dating again in no time!" she exclaimed._

_Marla raised an eyebrow at her._

"_I think you can take that as a huge no, Vala," Daniel put in._

_Vala opened her mouth to protest, but Marla cut in before she could get anything out. "Well, as much fun as it is being told I need to date, I have somewhere to be…" She turned, and started walking towards the door._

_Daniel caught her by the arm and she turned back around to raise an eyebrow at him. "Before you go, Marla, there's something I—" He looked at Vala, then corrected himself. "—we want to say."_

_She made a gesture for him to continue._

_Daniel and Vala exchanged a glance, then said in unison, "Thank you."_

"_You've both only said that to me a thousand times," Marla retorted, turning to leave again. Again, though, Daniel caught her by the arm before she could._

"_But you really deserve it," Vala said. "You've done so much for both of us."_

_A small smile tugged at the edges of Marla's lips, and her eyes dropped to the ground for a moment. Then she brought them back up to the couple in front of her. "And you've both done more for me than you know. Thank you."_

----

And they had. Marla really believed that through this ordeal, Daniel and Vala had truly helped her. On various levels, they'd even helped her make it through the change she knew had happened.

They'd helped her realize what was wrong with her life.

The one major thing that she'd learned from all of this, it was that life was too short to live it on the sidelines. Life was too fleeting to sit on one's hands, not doing anything one wanted. What was life if you never did what you wanted? If you never really lived?

And, Marla Jameson vowed, from here on out, she was changing.

* * *

**Okay, now about the sequel. I've been fairly quiet about it so far, but let me explain it some more now.**

**In the sequel--which is going to take place about a year after this ending--Marla's going to get the reassignment she wants, and is going to Atlantis. (But no fear, she's not going to take over Sheppard's job.) When she arrives, it turns out that Elizabeth has been kidnapped. Anyway, the story's going to be Sparky, of course, but might also have a side of McKay/Cadman, and will definitely see Marla paired off too. But with who? You'll have to read and find out!**

** And actually, something's happened. I said before that it might be a couple weeks before I got to write the sequel, but now it's looking like longer.**

**See, I've got some challenge fics that will probably take up the rest of this month, and I'm seriously considering entering NaNoWriMo for November. Then I have the first few weeks of December, but then I'm going out of town for about 2 weeks for the holidays. So, I don't think you all want me to start writing the sequel, then leave you hanging for 2 weeks, right? lol. SO, it's looking like I probably won't get to writing the sequel (which will be called 'Diduco Amatorum' which is Latin btw) until after the New Year.**

**Yeah, I know. That sucks.**

** ANYWAY, remember to review because: Reviews are like pills and my muse is a hypochondriac.**

**-The Noble French Fry  
**


End file.
